Doctor Who: Tangent: And Then There Were Two
by M. Handy
Summary: An accident in time sees Rose Tyler on the TARDIS at the 10th Doctor's Regeneration.  In a skewed timeline, can the 11th Doctor save not only the Earth, but his own past?
1. Chapter 1

Doctor Who: Tangent

And Then There Were Two

By: M. Handy

Chapter 1

Pain. A world of it, scorching every nerve back to its elementary fiber.

The Doctor steadied himself against a dirty brick wall, drinking in the frigid air of an infant New Year's Day. Chill though it might be, it failed to cool the pain that staggered him like a burning fire shut up in his very bones. Death awaited, inexorable even to a man who stared that phantom in the eye every day of his life. For The Doctor, death meant change; he could live on at the cost of everything that made him unique. Another man would walk away in a body he doubted he would recognize.

Every cell in his body cried out for that regeneration, but he resisted it with all his might. He had one more face to see before his own changed, and he listened for the steps of a woman he knew would come that way before long.

Footsteps crunched in the snow as she made her way down the empty street. The Doctor retreated a little farther into the shadows lest she see him in her passing. He could hear her ringing tones as she spoke to her mother. They parted, the girl's footsteps continuing in his direction. And then Rose Tyler stepped into view, red cheeked, hugging herself for warmth.

Seeing her hurt him more than the five hundred thousand rads of radiation that was even now killing him. He swallowed hard, watching her pass him by, out of his life as fate decreed it. The Doctor longed to call out to her, to say the words he never got to tell her in the end, but he was a time traveler, and she had not met him yet.

_Goodbye Rose Tyler,_ he thought, over nine hundred years of discipline scarcely enough to keep his countenance in check.

She continued on a few steps, and then the radiation sickness hit him. The Doctor gasped out, clutching the wall to keep him standing. Rose whirled at the sound. She eyed him in concern and alarm, but not fear. Her heart did not know that emotion.

Softening in compassion, Rose did not turn away. "Are you alright, mate?"

"Yeah" he croaked, doing his best to look nonchalant, but struggling to meet her gaze.

Her face bent into a bemused smile, "Too much to drink?"

_Oh about... four hundred eighty thousand rads too much_, he thought. Instead he said, "Something like that."

"Maybe it's time you went home."

He gave an almost imperceptible nod, the muscles of his jaw clenching, the pupils of his eyes dilating. "Yeah." He vouched safe no other answer. She had no idea how prophetic her words would prove.

Her smile brightened, "Anyway, Happy New Year."

"And you..."

She turned to go. The Doctor knew he should not do it; every sentence he uttered in her presence toyed with the fabric of his time-line, but he needed to prolong this final moment. His burning mind reeled for a word to stay her, finally settling on, "What year _is_ this?" It sounded weird even to him. Now she really would think him intoxicated.

"Two thousand five," she replied, a bit confused, "January first."

The year she met him. He nodded again, smirking despite himself. "I'll tell you what. I bet you're going to have a really great year."

"Yeah?" Rose smiled. He wished he could etch that expression on his retina. Rose half turned before addressing him once more, "See ya!" With that, she turned and ran toward her apartment building, opening the glass door to one of its stairwells. The door closed behind her, and Rose Tyler, his better half, his other self, left the pages of his song, forever.

Rose Tyler ascended the stairs feeling strangely distracted, the man she met on the street weighting heavily on her mind. She almost felt as though she knew him, or should have. At the very least he struck her as a man she would like to know.

An impulse drew her eyes back to him, and she watched through the glass of the enclosed stairwell. The man walked across the snow-covered street stiffly, not at all the weaving gait of a drunkard. It occurred to her now that she had been completely wrong about him; he wasn't cockeyed at all, he was deathly ill, and it amazed her she did not realize it sooner.

A sudden, spasmodic jerk and he collapsed on his face in the snow. Rose's heart slammed against her chest. She saw him writhe in pain as he struggled to stand, but waited for nothing more. Spinning on her heels, Rose sprinted back downstairs with all the speed her frigid legs could muster.

Refusing to die there in the street, The Doctor staggered into the TARDIS, his breath spent, his candle nearly used up. Sighing reluctantly, he pulled off his battered brown coat and tossed it carelessly upon one of the organic-looking pylons that supported the ship's piloting room. Determined, yet resigned, he took one last look at his own right hand and saw it shimmer with amber light. He had only moments left, enough to chart a new destination into ship's navigational controls.

The Doctor reached the central control panel and flipped a few levers. Using the column as crutch, he walked to the next display, to manipulate the proper controls there. That done, he came around again and stood with his back to the door. The thrumming engines of the TARDIS began their power up sequence.

_Good old girl. The only one who never left me... not that you haven't tried often enough._

In a few minutes he would walk out that door a new man.

He felt his face go flush. Unbridled fury stormed its way across his senses. On his face, he felt a mask of baffled anxiety, but his last moments granted him one last insight into the depths of he would soon loose. He had fought so hard, lived so hard, and kept fighting to the end, because part of him - the inane illogical part - wanted to believe he could win Rose back if he only kept this face long enough. Now he never would, but what did that matter?

His pulse quickened, and The Doctor took great gulps of air to satisfy his burning lungs. "I don't want to go..."

Then the impossible happened. "Can I get you something, mister. I just... why is this thing so much bigger on the inside?"

The Doctor rounded on the speaker in a panic. "Rose! No!" The dam finally burst; an explosion of unquenchable energy lanced out him in every direction, enveloping the TARDIS' main column, its support struts, cables, conduits and all. Five hundred thousand rads, on top of the normal ferocity of a Time Lord's regeneration, flooded the chamber.

The ships engines strained to cope, losing the battle against forces they were never meant to take. It triggered the TARDIS' de-materialization sequence. The ship was slipping back into the time vortex, completely out of his control. Rose Tyler, did not escape the brunt of regenerative energy. Enveloped in light, borne on the raw tide, she went flying backward out of the TARDIS doors onto the street. As if to fulfill his wish of late, the flight of her passage left a gold-flecked afterimage seared on his vision. For all he knew, he had just killed the woman he... but that was the last thing those eyes ever saw as the deluge of light blotted out everything else.

The ship reeled. Fires raged, delicate electronics sparked as they overloaded and burnt out. Crumbling masonry and ceramic deafened his ears. The Doctor screamed in rage and pain...

...and then a new man stood blinking at the chaos. He looked bewildered at his surroundings, as if seeing them for the first time. Indeed he had, for to this man, everything was new. Even so, The Doctor had never seen his TARDIS in such a state of smash.

Regeneration always left his head a bit fuzzy, so he best start with the basics. "Legs!" he cried, grabbing one on his hands and kissing it. "I still have legs. That's glorious." He patted himself down. "Arms! Fingers..." His eyes lit in childlike fascination as he wiggled them to make sure they were in working order.

"Excuse me, but what just happened?" demanded an all too familiar voice.

That brought him up short. Lids going wide, he found a blonde teenager standing shakily behind him. "What?"

She started to repeat herself but he interrupted, not believing his eyes or ears. "I heard you, but... that's impossible!"

"I would've thought so too but I saw it. Where's that other fellow?" She eyed him suspiciously. "You're wearing his clothes. Why?"

"Umm... yeah. He was me."

"What?"

"But don't worry." He winked at her. "I'm me too."

"Wha... Who _are_ you?"

"I'm The Doctor. But don't let's get distracted." He eyed her over quickly, his mind racing to piece things together, "I saw you go tumbling out of here, so how did you get back aboard the TARDIS? No time to walk in. Maybe the oxygen shell went elastic when everything overloaded and bounced you back in. For all I know this is just a post-regenerative hallucination. That would be new... possibly."

She interrupted him, "Let's say I believe any of this, which I don't. You... he... knew my name. How do you know me?" She snatched up a bit of jagged metal from the floor, wielding it like a club. "Are you some sort of stalker?"

"Stalker? No," he said emphatically. She was starting to cop that bit of attitude she he remembered so well, and he soaked it in like the bouquet of a fine wine. "I'm a traveler. And right now I can honestly say I know you better than I do myself. But there's something I'm forgetting. Something else. We're... we're..." He began looking around as if he thought the answer might fly by his head at any moment. It in fact did. A fresh explosion rocked the TARDIS, sending a particularly unpleasant jet of sparks full into his face. He pushed himself off the center console where he had stumbled and grabbed both of Rose's shoulder's, grinning as he jumped for joy like a kid in a candy shop. "We're _crashing_!"

"Crashing?" she repeated, disbelief and panic warring for supremacy on her face.

"Oh, yes, Rose Tyler," he couldn't help but say. "Hold on tight!" He could feel the TARDIS spinning wildly on its axis, rolling end over end to land... the universe knew where. Save for the fact he was a new man and she did not know him, this was just like old times. And when one said that, only one thing remained. Clutching a console, The Doctor threw back his head, joy splashed across his face.

"On y va!"


	2. Chapter 1 Part 2

Author's note: I wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed and flagged this story. It has meant more to me than I can say. As I said in my bio, this is one of two stories I am trying to get published right now. We'll see how that goes. Either way, I don't think it can hurt to post the balance of chapter 1 as my way of saying thanks for all the kind reviews.

oOo

Amelia Jessica Pond knelt beside her little bed, praying for aide from the most greathearted being she knew. Her hands pressed tightly together, she shut her eyes and ears to the weather beyond her window. Outside a cold, spring gust blustered the house from shingle to shutter, but despite the crack in her bedroom wall, not a breath of air stirred in her room.

"Dear Santa," she began in her lilting Scottish tongue, "Thanks for the dolls and pencils and the fish. It's Easter now so I hope I didn't wake you." She hesitated as though fearing a rebuff. "It's an emergency. There's a crack in my wall." At this mention, the seven-year-old looked to the farther wall, as though the crack might be watching her. She knew that to be silly, and on a deeper level, she knew it was true. Amelia shook off the notion, taking a deep breath. "Aunt Sharon says it's an ordinary crack, but it's not. So please, send me someone to fix it. Maybe a policeman, or..."

She trailed off, frowning as a rushing, wailing, grinding sound caught her attention, not coming through the crack, but rattling its way past the panes of glass in her window. The grinding became more and more insistent, increasing in volume as its source or origin came closer. "Back in a moment."

Amelia stood, rushing to her window to throw back the curtain just in time to see something like a star falling from the heavens. In one last desperate howl, an impossible blue box came hurtling to the ground, crash landing into her father's old shed, demolishing it. A jolt rippled through the floorboards under her feet. Smoke and splinters exploded in all directions, concealing the impact crater for several moments. Strangely enough, when it finally began to dissipate, the battered blue box beneath seemed little worse for wear.

Standing there for a moment, scarcely responding to the sight before her, Amelia shrugged to herself and went downstairs to investigate.

The Doctor came to himself, laying face-up in three inches of water. He sputtered and opened his eyes, taking in his new situation. Knowing himself, by instinct, in the TARDIS, he was surprised to see the fires had not touched this part of the ship. It looked familiar, but something felt out of place, something about the floor.

"Oh yes! The floor is now a wall. How silly of me not to notice." But that meant his ship lay on its side. It looked like he had fallen into the recreation room, and the pool, now an abysmally vacant depression in the "wall", had inconsiderately dumped its contents all over him. His body seemed more or less intact, but recent events left his clothing in rags.

Rose was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, like the proverbial sylph, she had disappeared back into the ether which first abandoned her upon his shores... was that a mixed metaphor? He couldn't tell. It might be beside the point, however, because if she _was_ in the TARDIS, he had to find her.

A dangling power cable, inactive thankfully, lay in the water not far away. It looked strong enough to bear his weight. Ninety seconds later, he emerged into a dark grey corridor, worming his torturous way from there into the next chamber like a rock climber through a lava shoot. When he emerged into the smoke-strangled control room, he spotted Rose propped against one of the bulkheads, conscious, but grasping her shoulder in pain. Greasy and bruised and dust smeared, at least she still lived, even if she didn't look any better than he felt.

She sighted him as his head popped above board. Tears streaming down her face, she spoke through a clenched jaw. "I think I believe you now."

"And what brought you to that conclusion?" he asked cheerfully, scrambling over the edge. Instead of answering, Rose gasped out in pain clutching her arm until her knuckles went bone white. He sucked in a hot breath and rushed to her side, dreading the worst. "What's the matter?"

Rose sat hunched in a modified fetal ball, but looked at him when he reached her. "It's… my shoulder. I think it's broken," she said hoarsely.

"Let me have a look." Not waiting for an answer, he felt along her shoulder with his fingers and mind. Sighing, he shook his head. "Not broken. It's dislocated. I can set it." He saw her brows knit together as she heard the words. "Yeah. It'll hurt, but not for long."

Hesitating, Rose nodded at last. She leaned forward and The Doctor put one arm around her to support her back. The other he wrapped around her arm. Hating himself for the pain he would cause, but seeing no alternative, he wrenched her shoulder back into its socket with a sickening pop. She let out a scream that went straight to his hearts, fresh tears streaming down her burning cheeks. Then, shock silenced her and she did everything in her power just to keep breathing.

He held her there for as long as he deemed proper. Then Rose leaned her sweat soaked head down against the bulkhead, shuddering with repressed sobs until her emotions finally began to calm.

Her eyes lifted to him again. "You were sick," she began, continuing the conversation from before, "or dying. You sorta exploded and became someone else. Not to mention we just crash-landed a telephone box." A ghost of a smile clouded her gloomy countenance, "I think I'm starting to get the picture. You're not human, are you, Doctor?"

He shook his head slowly. "Is that all right?"

"You look human."

He grinned, "You look Time Lord. Maybe that's why I hang around you people so much." He hesitated before speaking again. "Now tell me, new body, new face and all, tell me honestly; am I ginger?"

She burst into fiery laughter, just as he hoped. "Sorry. You're just sorta brown."

The Doctor pouted, "I like ginger hair. I've always wanted to be ginger!" It occurred to The Doctor that regeneration had left him without an internal monologue worth speaking of. If he kept blathering on like this he would end up telling Rose her own story. Most impolitic. "Listen. I promise I'll get you back when and where you belong, but first we need to give the ship time to repair herself. In the meantime, I'm going to have a look outside and see where we are. Don't want to find out we've landed on Queen Victoria's carriage or something. Poor woman has enough against me as it is."

"You mean Queen Elizabeth, don't you, mate?"

He exhaled sharply, helping her to her feet. "Oh, yes. I must have done."

Pulling his sonic screwdriver from the pocket of his trousers, he aimed it toward the centre console and held down its activator. Nothing happened. In consternation, he pressed the button several more times and it flared into all its bright, cerulean life. A little panel opened under the deck, ejecting an assortment of flotsam that nearly brained him before clattering to the floor. Among the miscellanea he plucked a rope and grappling hook, binding them together as he spoke. "I want you to stay here. You can't climb with that arm anyway."

"What am I supposed to do in this burnt out wreck?" As if in response to her question, the entire ship groaned.

"Don't say that!" The Doctor urged. "You hurt her feelings." He waved a vague hand about the lopsided craft. "I don't know. Explore. Just don't touch anything."

"You'll come back, right?" she asked suddenly, almost desperately. Moonlight streaming on her through the TARDIS' open doors, she looked so like a child in need of reassurance. "You won't disappear altogether, will you?"

He felt his forehead wrinkle as he smiled at her. "Not if you don't," he promised.

Standing back he wound up a good swing on the rope and tossed the grapple out into the night. It flew out the doorway and clung to something heavy outside the police box's wooden frame. "Wish me luck," he suggested, then began his climb.

He was breathing hard by the time he reached the top, but the air smelled fresher up there and he struggled on. One hand and then the other clutched the door frame, and when he got his first whiff of cold night air, a sight confronted him that left him both baffled and relieved. A little red headed girl in her dressing gown stood staring at him, an electric torch clutched loosely in her hand.

To break an awkward silence, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Do you have an apple? I could really use one if you do. I think I'm having a craving." He started to scrabble his way over the side, not wanting to leave himself hanging. He stopped once he sat astride the box's lower sill.

She frowned like he had just grown a second head. "Did Santa send you?"

"Excuse me, what?"

The girl did not answer him directly. "Are you okay?"

"Just had a fall," he replied, "all the way down to the library, I think. Quite a climb back up."

"You're soaking wet," she observed.

"I was in the swimming pool."

"You said you were in the library." Nothing got past this one.

"So was the swimming pool," he amended.

She seemed to tire of the conversation and looked the blue box over more carefully. "Are you a policeman?" she asked in the same calm manner.

It was his turn to frown now. "Why? Did you call one?"

Again she sidestepped the question. "Did you come about the crack in my wall?" Blimey. This girl was as good at dodging questions as him. He liked her already.

"What cra-aah-" a surge of pain doubled him over and he fell off, landing on the ground with an undignified thud. His newly regenerated body still had a ways to go before the process finished.

"Are you all right, mister?" she asked in concern.

"Fine," he lied. "This is perfectly normal." He coughed, and a cloud of gold dust plumed from his mouth.

"Who are you then?"

He laughed inwardly. "I don't rightly know. I'm still cooking. Does that scare you?"

She looked more annoyed at the question than scared of this mysterious interloper, and that gave him his first real insight into her character. "It's all just weird is all."

He shifted the question. "No. The crack in your wall. What about that?"

"Yes."

He grinned. "No time to lose then," he said, leaping to his feet. "I'm The Doctor. I'll have a look at that crack for you, but first let's see about fixing a snack, yeah?"

When Rose found herself alone in that creepy old ship, she immediately took up The Doctor's offhand suggestion. She would have done it either way, but permission tended to save a lot of explaining later on. Making her way to one of the TARDIS' offshoot corridors, she squatted on her haunches to peer into the darkness.

Slowly she dangled her legs over the edge, gauging the grade of that shadow-laden passage. Rose could certainly make it down, unless gravity worked differently in this peculiar vessel, in which case she might end up plummeting to her death, or floating helplessly in one of the ship's cavernous rooms. Somehow that didn't seem likely, so plucking up her courage, she slid the length of the corridor until it levelled out at a curve.

Here vertigo tickled her brain as she took in the sight of doors on the floor and ceiling, spaced irregularly, all of it vanishing from view at the next turning of the passage. Her shoulder nearly forgotten, she hopped over the first door, vowing to return and explore its secrets later. Soon, however, the rather featureless hallway began to bore her; she resolved to travel its length and work her way back, throwing open the lower doors to examine their depths.

To her dismay, the first turned out an ordinary closet, filled with tousled sundries and linen. The second door she opened held a more interesting find, namely an extra bedroom, spare but comfortable, with a dresser, sleeping cot, and mirror, all of them smashed to splinters. On the third door, her haste betrayed her. Unlike the others it opened inward, and its dead weight dragged her screaming into the chamber. Luck guided her, however, and she landed on an upturned feather mattress, cushioning her fall.

Rose coughed fitfully as a cloud of feathers exploded all about. For a moment, they obscured the dimly lit room altogether and she sat there, stunned for several minutes, until her adjusting eyes could take in her surroundings. The blonde teen frowned, not comprehending.

Pink. Unlike the rest of the ship, everything in the room was pink. Pink bedspread, pink posters, pink wallpaper, pink plush animals. The bedroom felt like... home. It remained in better shape, and aside from being turned on its ear, she could have decorated it herself. In fact...

Fishing through the debris, she found a jacket identical to one of her light autumn numbers, right down to a few worn spots and decorative patches. Rose felt the colour drain from her face. This felt… wrong, like a reverse case of déjà vu. A wardrobe lay on its back nearby. She reached over, opening one of its cabinets to find a row of clothing… her own winter stock.

She turned her attention back to the jacket. In one of the inner pockets she saw the edge of a Polaroid. Plucking it out, Rose examined the photo, pulling out her mobile to view it better in the light of its screen. On it she saw herself standing between two men. One was the brown-clad man she'd followed into the rabbit hole, starting this adventure, the other, her boyfriend Mickey, looking slightly put out though hiding it well.

Rose pressed the photograph to her heart, wishing she knew what all this meant. Her entire body tensing, she resolved to set the issue aside pending The Doctor's return. In the mean time, the last hour or so had left her outfit scorched, soiled, and torn almost to the point of scandal.

_So little time?_ It felt like an eternity. Silencing her qualms, Rose pulled off her tattered clothing, replacing them with fresh, though musty smelling, garments from this impossible cache. Then grabbing a brush from the floor, she made an effort to tidy her hair in the reflection of a broken vanity mirror. And a strange thing about that crack; it did not look quite natural, a curving break that did not touch the edge on either side; a jagged smile.

oOo

The Doctor sat at the kitchen table eating his new favourite food. He cheerfully dipped another of the freshly baked fish fingers in the bowl of custard before him, eating it with relish, replenishing the chemical energy depleted by regeneration. The little Scottish girl sitting across from him followed his example by eating ice cream right out of the tub with an old fashioned ice cream scoop. She watched him attentively for several minutes, finally putting down her spoon to pronounce the results of her observations.

"You're funny."

"Am I? Is that good?"

She smiled. "Well, I like it."

"Good," he agreed. "Funny's good. Now what's your name?"

"Amelia Pond."

His face lit up. "Like out of a storybook. Good name. I approve." The Doctor paused, popping the last bit of fish into his mouth before draining the custard from his bowl. "Are we in Scotland, Amelia?" he asked between gulps.

"No," she said regretfully. "Had to move to England."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's rubbish," she confirmed.

"What about your parents? We've made enough noise that we should have woken them by now."

This time she failed to meet his gaze. "I don't have parents; just an aunt."

The Doctor took note of her unusual phrasing. Not "My parents died," or "My parents left," but "Don't have".

"I don't even have an aunt," he said proudly.

Amelia giggled, her brows contracting. "You don't? You're lucky!"

"I know," he replied nonchalantly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. He really did like her now. Any bonnie lass who could cook was okay by him. Then he frowned. "And your aunt's out then? She left you all alone."

"I'm not scared," she answered defensively.

"Of course you're not!" he agreed. "Look at you. Box falls out of the sky, man falls out of the box... man eats fish custard, and you just sit there." He eyed her speculatively. "And you know what that means?"

"What?"

"That must be one scary crack on your wall." From the look on her face, he knew he hit the nail on the head.

oOo

It looked like an average little girl's room to The Doctor. He made his way over to the far wall where the suspect fissure lay. After pushing aside a little writing table, he fell to running his hand over the wall, feeling it with all his senses. His whole body bristled involuntarily at the impressions, and his mouth twisted into a scowl as long as he did not feel Amelia's eyes on him. The crack resembled nothing more wholesome than a malevolent, jagged smile, and that was its most redeeming aspect.

When he turned to look at Amelia again, he found her fussing with an apple and penknife, but she dropped them both into her dressing gown when he motioned for her attention. "There's air flowing through this crack, but not from the other side of the wall. It's not even from Earth… nitrogen and oxygen ratios are all wrong. What we're looking at is something that should not be, two points of space-time pressed together."

"What does that mean?"

The Doctor simplified it. "It's not a crack in the wall. It's a crack in the universe. Let's say I took your dog puppet here…" he plucked up the indicated plush spaniel, "and pulled its head off. Then I take your dolly over there, and do the same, but put the dog head in its place. What you'd end up with is something entirely unnatural and slightly silly. This crack here isn't silly, however. It's dangerous if left alone."

"That's bad," she concluded. "Am I going to end up with someone else's head?"

The Doctor's brow crinkled, "Oh, no. Of course not… probably." He listened again to the spacial distortion. "Do you ever hear noises coming through here?"

"Sometimes I hear voices," she admitted. "My aunt said I'm just imagining."

"Well if so, I'm imagining too." Making out a few words, he helpfully added, "Sounds like a bustle - a lot of very cranky voices. I should be able to close this crack… the right hypersonic vibration should open it, and then it would snap shut on its own."

"Then why do you look so nervous?"

So she had caught _that_ too. Without knowing what lay beyond, he could hardly help feeling apprehensive about possibly letting something loose. "Amelia… do you know when grown-ups tell you everything will be fine, but you think they're probably lying to make you feel better?"

Now she looked apprehensive. "Yeah."

The Doctor took Amelia's hand, the easier to dart off with her, and flashed his most ingenuous smile. "Amelia Pond. Everything is going to be fine." Taking up his screwdriver, he pointed it at the crack, depressing its activator. Whirring in obedience, the device's tip lit with cobalt light. Almost immediately, an unearthly rumble hummed throughout the room. Then, light pouring from deep within, the rift opened onto a scene of utter blackness. No, not entirely dark. Somewhere far inside he swore he could see... both man and child leaped back as an enormous eye rose up, filling the entire three foot opening before them.

"Route of escape has been ascertained," intoned the creature, "Scans show these are not the fugitive."

Before either onlooker could ask a question, the crack snapped shut with a snap-hiss of released tension, vanishing from Amelia's wall like it never existed. The Doctor continued to stare, puzzling out what he had just witnessed.

"What was that thing?"

"I dunno," he admitted reluctantly. "It said something escaped. Escaped through the crack? It hardly seems likely anything but air could fit through there." Looking the room over with a critical eye, The Doctor formed several provisional theories, second guessed all of them, and started fresh. He rushed back into the hallway to inspect that as well, Amelia following. "I'm missing something. Brand new me; nothing works right yet."

Then in the tail of his eye, he caught sight of a flicker of movement, and when he turned, spotted a door he failed to notice on his way up.

The TARDIS' cloister bells began to toll, and The Doctor's hearts hiccupped into his throat. "No! No! _No_!" he shouted, taking off in a panic, forgetting everything else, even his new acquaintance.

The Doctor ran, a feat within itself, since what remained to him of his previous incarnation's clothing scarcely fit him at all. His shoes, meant for a vastly different man, somehow managed to pinch his toes and remain flopping at the heels. To make matters worse, his pinstripe trousers constricted his sides, making it difficult to breathe. Amelia raced after him, clomping downstairs, through the kitchen and back out into the moonlight.

"The engines are phasing! It's gonna burn!"

Breathless, Amelia protested. "But it's a box! How can it have engines?"

He turned to her. "It's not just a box. It's all that's left of my world. A quick hop, say five minutes into the future, should realign everything."

If Amelia did not understand, she kept it to herself. "Can I come?"

"It's too dangerous," The Doctor denied, taking hold of the rope he'd climbed earlier. "I'll come back though; five minutes tops."

"That's what everyone says." She wilted, her gaze dropping.

He knelt before her, looking her straight in the face. "Trust me on this. I'm The Doctor."

She smiled wanly. "Here then." She held up her apple to him. On it he spied a face she had carved with the penknife. "My mum taught me this. I used to hate apples before that." She placed it into his hand."

"Good woman, your mum," he said. "I'll keep it for later."

"Doctor!" Rose's voice came echoing from deep within the TARDIS. "The thing is _doing_ something!"

"And that's my queue." Leaping onto his ship, he gave a quick test tug on his rope before plummeting into the depths below. "On y va!"

Then the TARDIS vanished in a blaze of pulsating translucence.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Landing solidly on the bridge's control panel, The Doctor went about forcing his ship's ravaged engines to get under power. He flipped a number of switches, disabling safety devices and rerouteing control of the vortex field stabilizers. After priming the ignition, he finally had the satisfaction of seeing the central pylon trundle to life. It grated worse than usual, and even now he would have to pay close attention lest the ship break apart.

Fortunately, the moment the TARDIS de-materialized, it straightened on its axis and gravity normalized. Unfortunately, The Doctor went crashing to the ground for the second time in a half hour. Rubbing his aching backside, he peered up to see Rose rising from a similarly inelegant position. All things being equal, she looked a lot better than he probably did. She actually looked a lot better than when he left.

"You cleaned up nice," he commented after studying a readout screen. "Found the wardrobe, did you?

"Something like that," she said uneasily. He felt her eyes on him, but Rose hesitated before voicing her question. "I just realized I don't know a thing about you."

"What's there to know? I just am. I hang out."

"'The Doctor' isn't your real name, is it? It's a title or something?"

"It's all you need to know about me right now," he replied. "It's all I know too, except that a little Scottish girl thinks I'm funny."

He almost expected a repeat of an argument he and Rose had at the beginning of their travels together... the last time. She could be rather stubborn at times, and he doubted she would drop the conversation. But when he saw her cheeks go bloodless, he realized her mind had gone a different track.

"Doctor. Am I a nutter?"

The Doctor smiled to himself. "No, Rose Tyler, you are certainly not a nutter."

"Are you?"

He paused for thought before answering. "No, Rose Tyler, you are certainly not a nutter."

"And I don't have amnesia?"

"What a bundle of laughs you are today."

"Doctor. I found my room."

She had his full attention now. "Oh."

"Tell me what's happened."

The Doctor wavered. He had made a mess of his time-line, letting Rose get on the TARDIS at all, an act which could have untold consequences. Untold consequences? What a silly phrase. But seriously, he felt he owed her an explanation. It might be dangerous, but ignorance could only hurt her, and if he got her killed before returning her safely to her own time...

"Doctor?"

He nodded. "My relationship to time is, shall we say, non-linear. For me, I met you years ago, but to you, you shouldn't have met _me_ until later this year. Needless to say, time can be rewritten. Not should be per say, but can be."

"So we meet," Rose said cautiously, "and travel together? But now your history changed?"

"Wibbly-wobbly, timey-whimey," he said as if such vagary explained all.

"And this is your time machine?"

The ship lurched, sparks flying and exhaust billowing into the room. The Doctor spun and grabbed the controls. "Not for long if I can't get it stabilized!"

A deep rumbling vibrated the deck plates. The Doctor guided his craft with infinite care, desperately trying to keep it in the centre of the time vortex. The last thing they needed was to re-materialize inside a mountain or star.

"What about that little Scottish girl you mentioned?" asked Rose when he paused to breathe. "Why were you gone so long?"

He answered offhand. "She had a crack in her wall."

oOo

The TARDIS materialized in full, glorious sunlight. Rose and The Doctor all but fled the smoke, coughing fit to eject lungs and eyeballs alike. The first breath of fresh air revived her, and she could not believe she had survived that close, scorching atmosphere so long.

As Rose sunk with her hands braced on her knees, The Doctor pulled the door heavily shut behind him, locking the police box before dropping its key in his trouser pocket. "I think there was a prison on the other side of that crack."

Rose looked at him, not sure if he was joking. "What? On the other side of the wall?"

"Who said anything about the wall? We fall all the way from London to this little backwater town and you still think one thing has to be next to the thing it's connected to?"

Rose flushed. "Good point."

"Now the thing is, something on the other side told me they'd had an escaped inmate that came through the crack."

"Really?" she asked, wryly. "Doesn't seem possible unless they've got a prisoner made of dust."

He laughed, wiping the soot from his eyes. "Yeah, that's what I thought. After all, to be made of dust an alien would have to be a..." His face fell abruptly. "Oh no." He took off running again, tearing toward the house in a panic. "Amelia! I know what it is now! I know what I'm missing!"

"Doctor!" Rose shouted. "I was only joking!" She followed at a trot, passing through the gate, catching up as a closed door barred his progress. He pulled out his pen-shaped wand and aimed it at the keyhole, but it fought him, sparking on and off in random bursts.

"Between regeneration and radiation, my screwdriver has seen better days," he commented. Finally it let loose a coherent burst and the lock clicked open. He burst inside, making for the stairs. Rose continued after him as he shouted. "Amelia! Are you all right? I'm here!"

He rushed up to... was that a door? Rose shook her head. For some reason she could not make her eyes focus on it, like some force was clawing into her head and telling her to never mind it.

"It's a perception filter," The Doctor answered her unspoken question. "I felt it last time I was here, but I got distracted. Something's hiding here that _really_ wants us to think it isn't important." Then he called aloud, "Amelia! Whatever came through that crack is still here. Do you hear me? Amelia!"

A creaking floorboard made Rose spin around. She did so just in time to see the cricket bat that knocked her unconscious.

oOo

On the other side of town, Dr. Ramsden and one of her nurses entered the coma ward, a brightly lit area of the hospital filled with soft beds, monitoring equipment, and the patients for which the department was named. Silence reigned saved for the steady rhythm of heart monitors and the occasional click of a fluid pump. Rory Williams stood across a hospital bed from her as she inspected the readouts on a digital display. Ramsden went rigid, rising to the whole of her height.

"So. They all called out at once," she monotone, staring hard at her tall, lanky subordinate. Rory's short, dusty hair bristled as her brow shot dangerously upward, daring him to give her the right answer. He fidgeted, but did not answer, so she continued. "That's what you said, yes? All of the _coma_ patients?"

Nurse Williams shied timidly away. "Yes, Doctor."

"And you know they are in _comas_ and can't speak?"

That got a reaction. Rory rolled his eyes and darted an annoyed glance. Fortunately for him Dr. Ramsden had turned away and taken up a patient's medical charts. "Of course, Dr. Ramsden. I know that, but apparently they don't."

She looked at him over her glasses making the mild mannered nurse squirm uncomfortably. "Then why are you wasting my time?"

Being a full head taller than her, Rory bent down to whisper, giving him a conspiratorial air. "Because they called for _you_."

She eyed him. Sick of this nonsense, she spat out her indignation. "Me?"

He twitched a brow blandly in response. Then, as if to vindicate him...

"D-doc-tor," muttered one of the patients. Then another. "Doctor..." Two others took up the emotionless, mindless chant, and then the entire room spoke that ominous word as one. Doctor and nurse stared at each other. The commotion died abruptly.

Put out over being proved wrong, Dr. Ramsden stomped dourly toward another bed. Opening the man's eye, she inspected his pupil, finding it completely dilated. "They're still comatose. I don't think they woke for a moment." Another patient yielded the same results.

"Doctor," Rory stumbled. "That's not all. I've been witnessing some other strange events."

"Yes," snapped Ramsden. "I know. My colleague informed me about your conversation. Listen, Rory, you're a good nurse, but for heaven's sake-"

"I've seen them!" he interrupted.

"Please. These people are not only in an advanced state of cerebral inactivity, they are under surveillance round the clock. They couldn't sneeze without one of us being here with a tissue beforehand. They cannot possibly have gotten out of the building, let alone been strolling around town... what are you doing?" He was handing a mobile out to her, an apologetic expression on his face.

"It's a camera too."

She glared. For once he did not back down. Sighing in disgust, she reached to take the... her pager beeped and she brushed Rory aside. "You need to take some time off," she announced, silencing the device. Rory objected, but she spoke over him. "A lot of time, starting now!"

Not waiting for his answer, she stomped from the room, leaving a profoundly dumbfounded and frustrated nurse in her wake. There was more going on here than the hospital staff would admit. He needed to find out the truth, cost him what it may.

oOo

The Doctor awoke with a jerk... no actually he awoke beside Rose Tyler whom he never categorized as a jerk. His head lolled forward away from a ribbed, metallic radiator. The first thing his bleary vision took in was a pair of cheap black stockings framed by black boots on one end and a short black skirt on the other.

"Yeah," said the owner of those legs. "It's a white male, probably in his mid-twenties, down and restrained alongside his little blonde partner. Both of them were caught breaking and entering."

Listening to the clinical voice, his neurons beginning to fire, he followed "legs" up to their inevitable conclusion: body. Here he found a black vest, long sleeve blouse, and a black-checked tie. Something seemed a trifle off about this, but he set that aside as "blonde partner" filtered in, and he looked to his left to see Rose handcuffed to him through the radiator. Just coming around, her eyelids slid open a crack, a glazed expression not comprehending the situation.

"Oy!" snapped the... was she a police officer? She looked like one. "You just sit still there, mates!" Her hair, tucked under a policewoman's cap, he could not tell much about her ethnic background, but her accent seemed a bit muddled.

"Who are you?" asked Rose, her head rolling onto the Doctor's shoulder. Poor girl had been through a lot lately.

"I'm asking the questions here," demanded the policewoman, leaning against the banister in sharp annoyance. The Doctor cleared his throat, watching the pair of blazing green eyes she fixed on him. "Let's start with the basics, yes? Who are you and what are you doing here?"

The Doctor sighed. "This must be a Monday. You know, I never could get the hang of Mondays." He lurched forward almost involuntarily, an act which yanked Rose onto her side via the chain tethering their cuffs together.

"Oww! Hey!" she complained. "Quit the dramatic gestures."

Chain going taut, The Doctor fell back, nearly on top of her. He continued fidgeting nervously, eyeing the masked door as he did. "Sorry. It's just that the blow to the head did me good. Exactly what I needed."

"Aside from the bobby letting us go!" called Rose, now fully awake.

She looked at them sharply, "Stalling'll do you no good. I have backup coming."

"Hang on. You're a policewoman," The Doctor announced.

"And you two are breaking and entering. See how that works, loves?"

"Yes, but where is Amelia. I have to know. She's in danger!"

Something on the woman's face changed at those words. Her jaw clenched, and she stared all the harder. "Amelia Pond?"

"The little Scottish girl?" questioned Rose.

The Doctor nodded, "Yeah. She lives here. I promised her I'd be back in five minutes, but the ship's engines are damaged. I must have overshot that mark by a few hours." This meant that whatever came through the crack, if so minded, could have stolen her and made it halfway across the planet by now, and that was the best scenario. He looked to the other woman. "Has something happened to her?"

The uniformed woman cocked her head to one side, tensing noticeably. "Amelia Pond has been gone a long time." The Doctor tried to interject, but shock choked the words down again.

"How long?" Rose asked for him.

"More than six months."

_Not possible_, thought The Doctor. He could hardly be six months late. A mirthless laugh bubbled up from deep inside him. "I promised. I said five minutes. That has to be wrong." He looked to Rose who shrugged helplessly. "What happened to Amelia?"

A few lines formed along the officer's young mouth, her eyelids twitching. Finally, she turned away and spoke into the little radio clipped to her vest. "Sergeant. It's me again. Hurry up, please. This guy knows something about the Pond girl's disappearance." She clicked it off and spun on them savagely. "It might satisfy you to know the only thing they ever found of her was a headless dog puppet with a few drops of her blood on it. Does that give you a rise, mister? Huh?"

The Doctor felt his mouth go dry. "Blood," he repeated."

"Yeah. Lab said it was fully oxygenated too. Probably came straight out of her heart. In fact-"

"That's kinda gross, actually," Rose cut in, stopping the tirade.

The Doctor took a moment to absorb that. Again his eye trailed to the hidden door, now fully visible to his trained mind. A shadow shifted under a crack beneath it, and he knew that whatever had hidden itself away in there was listening attentively to every word they uttered.

"I need to speak to whoever lives here right now," he said.

"I live here," she said proudly.

The Doctor frowned. "You? But I thought you were the police."

"Yes. Police live in houses too. Have you got a problem with that?"

"How many rooms on this floor?" he asked.

She did not hesitate. "Five. Was that supposed to be some kinda test?"

"Six, actually," Rose corrected, nodding to the far corner by the stairs.

"Shut up," she snapped.

The Doctor pressed on. "Count them for me. Right now."

Her face pinched. "Why?"

"Because it will change your life."

She rolled her eyes but complied, pointing without looking. "There are five. One, two, three, four, five. See? Wasn't that fun?"

"There are six," The Doctor affirmed in the calmest of tones. "Look behind you, and take it all in, slowly. It'll be like a ghost... something you see out of the tail of your eye."

Mingled fear and incredulity broke through her hardened mask. The policewoman turned slowly where her prisoners indicated. He heard her catch her breath at the sight, and knew she could see the hidden door now too. "That's... impossible. A whole room I've never even noticed... that's dream-stuff."

"There's a field around the door that stops you from noticing. I don't know where it's coming from, but that doesn't matter. Something came here to hide a long time ago, and it's still there. So, please _uncuff me now_!"

The policewoman started toward the door, transfixed. "I don't have the key," she said dreamily. "I lost it."

The Doctor's face fell. "Lost it? What?" It did not matter. "Forget it. Listen, miss policewoman. You need to stop. Come back now."

She kept going.

"Stay away from that door! Don't touch it."

She wrapped her hand around the knob.

The Doctor slumped beside Rose and ran his fingers through his longish black hair. "Fine. I could say 'don't go in' but she'd do it anyway. Do I just have a face that nobody listens to? Does nobody even care?"

Rose patted his hand, looking at him sheepishly and shrugged. "I care."

The officer disappeared into the secret room by then. He began fumbling in his pockets for his sonic screwdriver. Then he patted himself over before searching his trouser pockets a second time. "My sonic screwdriver. Do you have it Rose?" She shook her head. "You in there! Have you seen my screwdriver? It's a silver thing, tipped with blue. Where did it go?"

"There's no one in this room," called the officer through the open door. "Just some old furniture and moth-eaten curtains."

"Come on, lady, think!" called The Doctor. "It hid an entire room from you. What makes you think it can't hide itself?" He glanced at Rose. "Was that rude?"

Clearly shaken by all the commotion, Rose still answered. "Umm... not given the circumstances, no."

He took comfort from this. "Good. Last thing I want to be is rude and not ginger. Thanks."

"Silver, blue at the end?" called the other woman.

The Doctor looked up. "My screwdriver? Yeah."

"I found it."

"It must have rolled under the door after you cracked me with that cricket bat."

"Yeah." There came a moment's ominous silence. "And then it hopped up onto the table."

His pulses quickened. "Just get out of there. Get out before you see what's hiding in there and it decides you're a threat." Several more moments of silence passed. "Get out of there!"

She seemed to ignore him, and he yanked against his bond's unsuccessfully.

"Will you knock that off?" Rose complained.

"Sorry."

"I feel something in here now..." called the officer.

"What are you waiting for?" he cried. He changed his tactic. "Whatever you do, don't look at it!"

Too late. An ear piercing scream rang from the secret room. An instant later, she came barrelling out the door, slamming it shut behind her. Terror written on her every feature, The Doctor hardly needed to ask what she found. On the other hand, he spotted a flash of silver in the woman's grasp and knew she had the presence of mind to grab his sonic screwdriver on the way out.

"Give it to me," he called as she reached them. The girl handed it to him without protest. He almost recoiled when he touched it. The entire device was coated in a sickly, clear mucus. Wiping it off on his shirt, The Doctor tested it, but the screwdriver merely flickered once and switched off again. Hissing under his breath, he pounded the end against his palm in hopes of jarring an internal connection back into place. This time, the device whirred complacently. He pointed it across the hall, and the door's lock clunked into place.

That done, he pointed it toward the cuff around his wrist. Again the sonic screwdriver sputtered. "Oh. What's that bad old alien done to you," The Doctor crooned.

"Will that door hold it?" the frightened officer asked.

"Sure. Of course. That thing is an inter-dimensional multiform from outer space. The one thing it's really allergic to is wood."

She gave him a dirty look.

Gold light and the sound of windblown sand emanated from beneath the door.

"What's it doing?" questioned Rose, pointing.

The Doctor looked up from cleaning his sonic screwdriver to observe. "I dunno; don't think I want to either." It was a lie, of course, but no need to scare them unduly. For all he knew the creature would stay put. "Probably getting dressed. But don't you worry. You said you have backup coming, so get out of here until they arrive."

"There is no backup," she spat in disgust.

"What?" asked The Doctor. "You called for backup on the radio."

"I heard it too," added Rose.

"It's a pretend radio. I like to pretend. I'm good at it."

"You're a policewoman."

She pulled her hat off in an melodramatic gesture and glared. "I'm a kissogram, all right?"

The Doctor stared blankly. With her tumbling red hair, button nose and green eyes, she looked like an older version of Amelia. She couldn't be the girl's aunt though. A cousin, maybe?

"Why you cheeky thing!" Rose groused. "You're not even a real cop?"

"Great deduction, Missy. That blonde doesn't go so deep after all."

"Now see here-"

oOo

The door exploded off its hinges, landing in the hallway with a thud. Rose started, but kept her head, breaking off the argument so recently begun. "Doctor!"

The redhead froze at what she saw, and honestly the sight surprised Rose as well. In the doorway stood a middle aged balding man in a blue electricians jumper. Held back only by the chain in his hand, a large black hound strained to get its teeth into them. It growled and slathered, pulling as its master stomped ponderously toward the trio.

"That's not what I saw in there," muttered the faux policewoman

"What part of 'multiform' did you not get?" said The Doctor sternly.

"Sorry! I'm a bit new at this!"

"Then look at the faces."

Rose and the officer obeyed. The dog's menacing growls assaulted her ears, but when she paid attention, she realized that the dog's _mouth_ was not producing it. Instead its master, bearing barbed, needle-like teeth, spat foam, snarling and barking in perfect canine imitation. Rose compressed her lips in alarm.

"What?" spat Amy. "I'm sorry, but _what?_"

The Doctor smiled tightly, getting more amusement out of this than either of the women beside him. "You're looking at one creature disguised as two. That's beautiful. Brilliant! Not many multiforms can do that." He cleared his throat. "Got the voice a bit muddled though. A bit of a rush job, eh?"

Rose watched aghast as both man and dog swivelled their heads as one. Then she focused on The Doctor, who was talking to her. "You see? One brain controlling two heads. No wonder its getting it wrong. Kind of like an Auton duplicate, you see."

She blinked at him.

"That reminds me," he called, now addressing the alien. "To maintain a copy that perfect you'd need a psychic link of some kind. How did you manage that without someone noticing?"

The creature replied with another vicious growl, bearing impossibly long fangs.

"Not the conversational type," murmured Rose.

"I take your meaning," he replied.

The redheads voice rose in intensity. "Watch out!"

Rose lifted her head and gasped. The hound had gone... no. In a grotesque parody of a Frankenstein's monster, the man now bore a replica of the dog's head on either hand, each a snarling, toothy monstrosity. She rubbed her eyes not believing their testimony. Unfortunately, this pulled The Doctor off balance.

"Hey! Now who's making the dramatic gestures?" he griped, fumbling for his sonic screwdriver.

The alien rushed forward, tearing a chunk out of the railing with one hand as it came at them. Rose braced herself against the radiator, awaiting the worst. The other woman yelped, but The Doctor never faltered. Thrusting out his screwdriver, he depressed the trigger. It let out a high pitched whirr, nearly deafening Rose in its intensity.

Rumbling to a stop, the alien's hands, one forearm, and part of its chest shimmered apart into a coalescent mist of amber dust. It staggered back as under a physical blow, snarling like a beaten dog. Glaring, its body slowly reformed into a man and chained dog. The Doctor kept his sonic screwdriver raised in a threatening manner.

"Heel, boy," he mocked, not willing to let the alien pull itself together in any sense of the word before beginning another verbal assault. "We're safe. And do you know why?" He smirked. "This nice officer here has backup coming."

"I told you. There _is_ no backup!"

The Doctor sighed through clenched teeth. "Yes. Thank you, madam. That was actually a clever lie to save our lives. But by all means, let the nice multiform know that the only thing between it and our throats is a badly malfunctioning sonic device."

Leering at them, the dog began to howl its rage. The seemingly steel chain leash stretched like rubber or sinew and the canine pawed its way toward the trio. The Doctor's thumb hovered over his screwdriver's trigger, but Rose felt a shudder ripple through him and knew he had no confidence that the device would obey him a second time.

Then, the amplified din of a monotone voice thundered through the house's sturdy walls. "The Atraxi Collective issues this communication. Our vessels detect residue of the multiform Prisoner Zero. Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence, or the human residence shall be incinerated. Compliance is mandatory. Repeat. Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence, or the human residence shall be incinerated…" And it went on like that.

So the creature's name was Prisoner Zero? Rose doubted that as much as the idea that "The Doctor" was her companion's real name, but at least that gave her something to call it. Prisoner Zero stiffened unnaturally. No longer considering them a threat by comparison, it stalked into one of the rooms off the passage.

"There's our backup," The Doctor jested. "And we're perfectly safe aside from the odd incineration."

He turned his sonic screwdriver on the handcuffs again. The lock opened, The Doctor bolting to his feet. Helping Rose to her feet, he opened her shackle as well, letting the handcuffs tumble onto the floor.

"Let's go!" Grabbing Rose by one hand and the redhead with his other, The Doctor took off downstairs, pausing only to assure himself Prisoner Zero was not about to descend on them again.

oOo

Sunlight streamed all about them before Rose realized she had stopped breathing. She inhaled sharply just as The Doctor released her hand to lock the back door with his screwdriver.

He looked at the redhead oddly as if seeing her for the first time. "A kissogram?"

"Yes! I'm a kissogram. Is that really important right now?"

"Why did you pretend to be a policewoman?"

They sprinted toward the TARDIS. "Well, you broke into my house after all. It was either that or the French maid costume. Now tell me. What's really going on?"

Rose glanced at a rusty old swing set as they passed it, and wondered why the yard looked so overgrown. If her mum could have afforded a place like this, between the two of them she would have made sure it stayed in decent shape. They trod on what felt like a few years worth of autumn leaves. The only thing that felt new was a wooden shed with glass panes for windows. Something felt wrong about this place.

"Tell me!" shouted the kissogram, clearly losing her patience.

The Doctor reached his police box and slapped the door once before fumbling to insert the key. He rounded on her. "An alien convict has been living in your house, hiding in your spare room. Clear enough?"

She nodded.

He whipped his hands in lines, geometric shapes, and figures off eight like an artist painting on a canvas of air. "Now some other aliens are here to capture it and they're about to blow up your house. Any questions?"

"Yes."

He smirked. "Me too." Finally fitting his key to the lock, The Doctor frowned when he could not make it turn. "No! No! _No!_ Don't do this to me!"

"What is it?" asked Rose.

"It's still rebuilding inside, not letting me in."

"Can't you just use that sonic thing?" asked the redhead.

The Doctor leaned his head against the police box door. "If I could make the TARDIS open when she didn't want to, she wouldn't be the TARDIS."

Barking from behind them brought both girls around to see. Prisoner Zero peered out the kitchen window in all its vicious glory. Both man and dog barked and snarled, and Rose, who had seen some of what Prisoner Zero could do, did not want to wait for it to catch up to them.

"We should go!" she called.

The other woman grabbed The Doctor's arm and began hauling him toward the fence gate, but he resisted her. However, he did not pull toward the TARDIS, but the small wooden shed Rose had noticed earlier.

"Hold on." He adopted a bemused, concerned expression and yanked his hand out of hers. "Wait. This shed. How is this here? My ship landed on this last time I was here and smashed it to pieces."

"Built a new one. Let's go."

"No. It's not just that. These planks aren't new. They must be ten years old at least."

Out of the corner of her vision, Rose saw the other woman's eyes widen in unbidden panic. She could not understand the reaction, but The Doctor, not noticing, plucked a bit of splintered wood from shed's side and stuck it in his mouth. Not satisfied, he licked the corner of the structure and frowned.

"Correction. Twelve years. This thing is twelve years old, which means I'm not six months late. I overshot my mark by a good bit more than that."

"Prisoner Zero's coming," she tried to interject.

"This is important! Why did you say six months?"

"Actually, I said _more_ than six month." She looked over her shoulder, the panic deepening.

Rose spotted the kitchen door opening and patted The Doctor's arm. "We really have to go."

He ignored her and pressed his point. The red-headed woman's head snapped back around and she glared at him in almost childlike fury. "Well why did you say _five minutes?_"

Her accent had changed, coming through as clear Scottish to Rose's ears. The Doctor's jaw dropped, and he stared at her in disbelief. "What? Amelia?"

Prisoner Zero stood barking at them on the porch. Ignoring The Doctor's protests, Amelia and Rose took firm hold of his arms, dragging him out of the yard. He struggled impotently, gabbling in confusion. The Atraxi Collective's broadcast continued to blare from some unseen source, but Rose put it out of her head for the moment. They had to get to a more public spot where Prisoner Zero would need to be less conspicuous.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"You're Amelia Pond!" The Doctor finally blurted out. He followed the two humans down a paved pathway leading toward the town's little park and playground.

She tugged down her skirt in an odd, self-conscious gesture. "You're late."

"You were the little girl?"

"We established that. I'm Amelia and you are late."

"What?"

They slowed to a quick walk, but The Doctor did his best to puzzle out their main dilemma. Unfortunately, what kept invading his thoughts was how an adorable seven-year-old girl turned into a buxom, fiery nineteen-year-old in all of five minutes. He looked from Amelia to Rose and back again, finally shrugging.

Amelia refused to meet The Doctor's gaze. "Twelve years and four psychiatrists late."

"Why four?"

She hesitated. "I kept biting them. They said you didn't exist. Now not only do I find you're real, but I catch you alfresco with this blonde."

"In flagrante," The Doctor corrected.

"What?"

"You meant 'red-handed'. Alfresco just means 'outside'."

She gave him another dirty look. "You know? It really bothers me that _this_ is what you chose to take issue with."

"Sorry. I'm still not running on all cylinders yet."

They neared the park entrance when something caught The Doctor's attention. Ahead lay a truck of some sort with a scratchy sound system blaring away. His brow creased as he heard a garbled but understandable drone issuing forth from its speakers. "Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence." The Atraxi ultimatum looped over and over.

But this was no government vehicle monitoring alien broadcasts. It was an ordinary ice cream van, bright painted in some areas and a trifle rusty in others. Its occupant leaned out the side window, fussing with wires on the bullhorn. He looked just as confused to hear the strange message.

Amelia looked like she might just break into hysterics, probably wondering why they were being staked out by an a dessert vendor. Rose wore a familiar expression hinting she enjoyed the recent action, but dared not admit it.

They approached a middle-aged man with a round, pink face and whiskers jutting to the east and west, peering at him and his van. The vendor appeared hopeful for a potential sale, beaming them his most salesman-ish smile. But when he realized the onlookers were only window shoppers, he went back to his sullen repair task.

"Why are you playing that?" asked The Doctor.

He answered apologetically. "It's supposed to be a jingle for the kiddies." He watched The Doctor pick up his radio and cycle through the dial. Every station broadcast an identical ultimatum.

A needle of ice, not at all the fresh or creamy kind, worked its way down his spine. The Doctor did a full circle, taking in everything he could in that brief glance. From it, he noticed a half dozen joggers fighting with the receivers on their personal radios. Not far away, a woman's cell phone dispatched the message from its speaker. He felt his jaw clench.

Amy and Rose stared at him, clearly waiting for him to explain. However, foreboding sealed his lips. The Doctor pulled out his screwdriver and fired a hypersonic burst at the radio. Then, turning the knob again, it cycled through languages instead of stations. German, French, Chinese, and others spilled out the speaker as he listened.

"Oh. That's not good," he said at last. "That's not good at all."

"What?" asked Rose and Amy simultaneously.

The Doctor continued to bustle.

"Amy!" called the ice cream man, beaming again. "I didn't recognize you in that getup. Are you a police officer now?"

She did an uncomfortable mock curtsey. "I am sometimes."

The man frowned, confused. "But I thought you were a postman. Or was it a nun?"

Amelia gave a little gasping laugh. "I can be. I dabble."

Rose smiled. "So you didn't just put that thing on this morning as a bet?"

Amelia wrinkled her nose in distaste.

The Doctor eyed her. "You're Amelia. Who's Amy?"

She pouted. "Amelia is a 'storybook' name. A became Amy when I grew up."

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" asked the man, addressing The Doctor.

"Not likely, new face and all." He paused. "What kind of job is a kissogram, anyway?"

"I can tell you," Rose interjected. "She goes to parties and kisses people. With outfits."

"It's a laugh!" Amy defended.

"You were a little girl five minutes ago," he scolded.

"Sheesh, you're worse than my aunt."

"I'm The Doctor. I'm worse than everyone's aunt... which sounds a good bit less impressive when I say it out loud."

Rose just laughed at him.

Amy fumed. "Okay. Less talk about me. What isn't good?"

"The Atraxi are broadcasting to the whole world."

"So?"

"They're not talking about your house, Amy. The Atraxi have surrounded the planet. They're going to sterilize the Earth to prevent Prisoner Zero from escaping."

Rose gaped at him.

He didn't blame her. Questions flashed across his mind like heat lightning. How would they do it? Atraxi ships used crystalline lattice, quartz-lined hulls. Enough of them could excite molecules in the atmosphere and cook the planet like a potato in the microwave. They would need to power up first. How long would it take? Again, it depended on the size and armament of the warships. He knew little about the Atraxi, but from what he had heard, they moved in numbers when provoked.

They probably had between five and thirty minutes, and what could he do with that?

He needed resources. With his TARDIS he could solve this problem in thirty seconds. Without it, all he had was a battered screwdriver, what looked like a closed post office across the way, and a bright red phone box.

They stalked away from the befuddled vendor, The Doctor making a beeline for a little pool by one of the park gates. "What's this?" he asked offhand.

"It's a duck pond," Amy replied.

Rose frowned at it. "There are no ducks in it. What makes it a 'duck pond', Pond?"

She shook her head. "It just is."

"That's okay. The amount of sense this day has been making can fit in a sardine tin without removing the sardines first. Why do I never have a chance for a lie down after regenerating? It would be so much better than all this." The Doctor pointed a stern finger at her. "I'm not as young as I used to be, no matter what the face may suggest."

Rose laughed to herself. "Yeah, but at least it's not going so badly as last time."

He shrugged. "Good point. If only... what?"

She looked a bit dizzy. "I said 'at least,'" she trailed off, cocking her head sideways. "Sorry. Lost the thought there."

"Don't worry about it," he replied. Only he could not abide by that advice himself. That slip frightened him. Yet another oddity, perhaps more important than all the others, but it would have to wait lest the world burn.

An instant later, the thought fled his mind as well when a surge of pain twisted his gut into knots. He collapsed backwards onto a ledge surrounding the pool. A rush of energy surged through him, venting from his mouth in a burst of gold light. Both young women watched him in alarm.

Grabbing his chest, The Doctor gritted his teeth through the pain. "Like I said, I'm not done yet. This is just too soon."

oOo

Before the others could respond, a muted umber cast itself over the sun. Amy peered into the sky in trepidation. The darkness of twilight spread from horizon to horizon. The sun remained at the pinnacle of its arc, but despite this it seemed to have lost its command of the heavens.

Amy felt the blood rush from her cheeks. All over the park, joggers and picnickers alike stopped what they were doing to stare, spellbound by the remarkable spectacle. Many of them took out cameras and other devices to snap off a few four-by-sixes of the phenomenon to upload to their Facebook accounts.

The Doctor watched them, exasperated. "Terrific. The end of the world, right here, seen as it was always meant to be; through the lens of a picture phone."

Smiling despite herself, Amy did not answer, preferring to maintain her sour demeanour a little longer.

"How can the Atraxi get away with this?" asked Rose.

The Doctor eyed her. "They might not, but we'll be just as dead." He went back to cleaning his sonic screwdriver, muttering to himself as he worked. Relative silence settled between them. The silly blonde took out her phone, fussing with it like she very much wished it had a camera as well.

Amy, bottling her thoughts, bit her lip in anxiety. The sun had gone bonkers, her childhood imaginary friend had returned out of the blue, and an alien living in her house had attracted its unrelenting jailers to come and capture it. To wit, this day was not going quite as she planned.

"Amy," The Doctor called.

She barely heard him.

"Amy!" he repeated, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him. She stumbled, looking annoyed, and snatched back her wrist.

"What?"

"I'm still missing something. I'm sure of it. Give me a hand here." He slapped his forehead and stomped around in a tight circle.

"Are you just winding me up?"

"Why would I do that?"

Amy wrung her hands together. "I don't know. This isn't exactly normal, is it?"

"For me?" He grinned. "This is routine." The Doctor staggered to his feet. "Wait. That's it. I looked right at him and I missed it." The grin broadened. He had obviously recalled the information he wanted. "We can still do this. Come on. We've got a few minutes, and I'm going to buy us some more. Run to your loved ones, or stay with me."

Something snapped in Amy's head. Her lower lip curled, eyes growing more intense than ever. For her, Prisoner Zero, Earth's immanent destruction, and all the rest no longer mattered. She straightened to her full height, seized The Doctor by his ragged tie and yanked his face to within an inch of her own. "No!"

His expression slipped. "Sorry, what? That wasn't one of the options."

"I said no!" She took off, dragging the protesting, helpless man behind her. Out the park gate they went, Rose following at a close distance, not sure how to react. Amy marched to a little parking lot, reaching a car just as its driver stepped out.

The old man lurched back when he caught sight of the fierce redhead. She took advantage of his confusion to snatch the keyring from his hand. Then, slamming The Doctor's tie in the door, she pressed the car's electronic lock, pinning him in place as emerald eyes burned into him.

"What are you doing? We don't have time for-"

"Uh, Amy?" prompted the bewildered old man. "I will need this back again in a few minutes."

She turned the blazing green coals on him. "You'll be fine. Toddle away, yeah? Pop off and have tea."

He swallowed hard, moistening his lips. Then, not commenting further, he literally ducked out of the conflict like he expected it to come to blows. He had seen her like this before, though not for many years, and wanted no more to do with such a tantrum now than in days gone by. After all, he was the second psychiatrist thrust upon her by her aunt.

The laser-like stare shifted back to The Doctor. "Who are you really?"

"You know me. I'm The Doctor." Sweat matted his hair. Amy knew she was not the best judge of character, but she recognised earnest panic when she saw it. This man honestly believed the world would end any minute.

She screwed her eyes shut, drumming on her cheeks before continuing. "Things like this don't really happen. I finally get you out of my head and you show up again."

"Amy!" called Rose. "We don't have time to waste here. Now let him go!"

She craned her neck to take in the other girl. Tears threatened to master her, but Amy fought them down. "And you," she said, voice tremulous. "Are you why he never came back? He met you and forgot all about keeping his promise. Is that it?" Amy's heart hammered against her breastbone. Anger, fear and jealousy vied for supremacy but she rejected them all.

If The Doctor spoke truth, this teenybopper Londoner stole the place on his ship he reserved _her._ Amy lost the greatest adventure of the ages to some ditzy girl barely her own age. If he lied, none of this mattered. It meant she was as crazy as her aunt always told her she was. Neither possibility exactly appealed her.

Rose shook her head firmly. "It's not like that. I was there on the TARDIS when we crash-landed in your yard twelve years ago. If you followed The Doctor, you might have heard me call up to him from inside."

Amy felt her own face scrunch into muddied disorder. "I thought that was the ship."

Rose shook her head again.

Gaze lingering, Amy thought long and hard before responding. A cold ache in her chest settled into the pit of her stomach. "I don't believe you."

A flicker of movement brought her attention back to The Doctor. He pulled something red out of his pocket, tossing it into the air. She caught it out of instinct, and Amy realized she held an apple in her hand. The sight startled her, imagination transporting her back thirteen years in an instant, to a kitchen table and an auburn-haired woman who's smiling face she could barely remember. Her heart broke then and there.

_Oh, mum!_ This time hot tears spilled over burning lids. In the past, she often tried to see that face as she rested on the border of wake and sleep, but the memory would not force. It felt more a shadow, old and faded like a sun-soaked photograph. A detached part of herself noted with wonder that she did not collapse in wild hysterics, but suffice it to say, she remained standing.

The smiling face carved into the apple's skin seemed like her mother's handiwork, but not _just_ like it after all. It looked like the work of weaker, but no less determined fingers. The muscles in her throat contracted.

She looked into The Doctor's eyes, but he gently took her wrist and forced the sight back into her vision. "I'm The Doctor. I'm a time traveller Everything you've seen is real, and if you don't let me stop this, all you know ends today." He paused, squeezing her hand. "Look, Amelia Pond. Look at this apple. It's fresh as the day you gave it to me, because from my perspective, you only gave it to me a short while ago. And you know it's the same one."

Amy blinked away the last vestiges of her tears. The Doctor's eyes met hers, but she looked right through them. Her heart mourned the undiscovered country, a lifetime of adventures that the child Amelia had longed for but would never know.

Her other hand rose of its own volition, the key fob still clutched between finger and thumb. The conflict did not lessen, but her torment did. She punched the unlock button.

Rose sighed in relief as The Doctor freed himself.

"What do we do?" Amy questioned.

Wild darkness warmed his every feature. "We have a nurse to catch."

oOo

Rory Williams stood staring, but not at the spot everyone else in all Europe likely fixed their collective gaze. He snapped off another picture of the impossible man walking his equally impossible dog. The fact that he found him here in the park scarcely surprised him. The rub was that he found his patient out of the hospital at all. However this man, like all of the coma patients, refused to let a little thing like chronic unconsciousness hinder his Sunday strolls.

Out of the blue, a man nearly tackled him, seizing his wrist like he meant to take off with phone and arm alike. Rory recoiled, but abated slightly when it registered that the man looked vaguely familiar. He twisted Rory's arm so he could get a better look at the last picture taken, seeming satisfied by what he saw.

"Everyone else is looking at the heavens, but you take pictures of a man and a dog. Why?"

Amy and another girl arrived on the man's heels, the former tugging down her skirt in a show of modesty he knew she did not equal. Rory greeted her. "Hi, Amy."

"Hi!" she wheezed between breaths, entwining her arm in his cheerfully. She turned to the man. "Yeah. Rory. This is The Doctor and Rose. Doctor and Rose. This is Rory. He's a friend."

"Boyfriend," Rory corrected, eyeballing the man in suspicion. He finally decided to bite the bullet and ask. "What's wrong with the sun?"

"Nothing. You're seeing it through a filter. The Atraxi erected a force dome around your upper atmosphere. All the better to boil the planet. Where have you been?"

Rory gaped at him.

"Forget about it," The Doctor finished. "Pictures. Man and dog. Why?"

Sizing the other man up, Rory made a connection that nearly took his breath away. What had Amy called him? Rory pursed his lips, felt his jaw drop, and finally pulled himself together. "Oh dear. It's him!"

"Just answer the question, Rory," Amy almost snapped.

"It's him though. The Raggedy Doctor." Rory could not help but point.

The Doctor snatched under the nurse's coat and pulled Rory to him by his scrubs. "Man and dog. Why? Now!"

"Well it's just that he can't be there. He's-" here The Doctor joined him word for word. "In a hospital. In a coma."

Rory blinked. "Yeah. Exactly."

A smile ghosted onto The Doctor's lips. "I knew it." He slapped Rory on the shoulder. "It's an alien shape shifter. It needs a living but dormant mind to maintain its form."

They both spun to face where the wandering coma patient should have been, but no one stood where the man once waited.

"Does your phone have internet access?" asked The Doctor. "Give it here."

Rory complied. He watched as the man pulled out a pen-shaped device and ran its glowing blue tip over his mobile's screen. "What are you doing?"

"I'm upgrading your phone so I can follow the Atraxi signal back to its source." He glanced up at the two woman. "Amy. Rose. Hold up your phones." When they had done so, he ran his instrument over them as well. "There. Now we'll all be able to keep in touch even if the service goes down."

The Doctor pushed several keys on the cellphone's touch screen, then started dialling. "That ought to do it," he said, more to himself.

oOo

The Doctor waited as the phone's rewritten GPS software tracked the extraterrestrial broadcast back to its source. The speaker continued to click a rhythmic pattern of audible tones, representative of alphanumeric algorithms required to tap into the receiver circuits of an intergalactic race such as the Atraxi. He could not be sure it would work, but he had done enough jiggery-pokery with alien technology to make his attempt with relative confidence.

"How can it be him?" Rory blustered in Amy's ear. "He was just a game. All those cartoons you did when you were little."

"Cartoons?" The Doctor repeated, the word almost sticking in his throat. That was a first. The line clicked one more time and began ringing. He held out a hand to silence the others. Far aloft, a communicator came to life.

_"This is the Atraxi warship, _Saffron Spire_. Who is this that desires communication?"_

The Doctor put on his most official hat. "What do you think you're doing? Under article fifty-seven of the Shadow Proclamation, this is a fully established, level five planet. Are you just going to burn it?"

"_We do not subjugate ourselves to those constrictions,_" answered the emotionless voice.

"Do you think no one is paying attention?"

_ "Prisoner Zero is sentenced to a thousand lifetimes in solitary confinement, the greatest punishment we can meet out. It must not be allowed to escape under any circumstances_."

"A little late for that, don't you think?" The Doctor shot back. "And what exactly did this Prisoner Zero do to deserve that?"

"_Prisoner Zero was a professional assassin, hiring itself out to the highest bidder. It has been the downfall of a hundred planets, leaving anarchy in its wake. We only captured it because Prisoner Zero, in an attempt to flee Stavros IV's destruction, imitated an army regiment to force its way aboard a departing bulk cruiser_."

"Well that was silly. Who would believe a whole army populated by soldiers who never stop touching each other? Preposterous don't you think? Well, I suppose some armies…" He bit his tongue.

"_Though Prisoner Zero must not be unleashed upon the galaxy, the Atraxi take no pleasure in the destruction of any world. We shall not, however, desist._"

The Doctor shuddered. He ground his teeth in silence, pulling his fingers through his mop of unruly hair. "Work with me. You say you take no pleasure in death. What if Prisoner Zero could be found? You're searching for him. I'll search too. Together we can't fail, but you have to give me time!"

Silence met this last appeal. The Doctor felt his eye twitch in anticipation. He breathed deep and slow to prevent himself from hyperventilating. Tapping a hand against his thigh, he soon found himself synchronizing with the brisk rhythm of his heartsbeat.

Then, when he thought he could not wait another instant, the Atraxi leader returned. "_We have conferred_." Another intolerable pause. "_We are agreed. Now that Prisoner Zero is alerted to our dragnet, it must not be allowed the opportunity to get off planet. We grant you one hour to apprehend the fugitive. After this time, the Atraxi Collective shall radiate the planet through ionic excitement of its atmosphere._

Though sorely tempted to point out that the Atraxi themselves were responsible for Prisoner Zero's awareness of their presence, he behaved himself and took what he could get.

"I accept your offer. In the name of justice, we will recapture Prisoner Zero and send you a signal when we find it. But believe you me, we are going to have a long chat about this when I'm done."

Maybe he was telling the truth too, about justice at least. The Atraxi sense of justice might be entirely black and white, without all the little wobbly bits he so favoured in his own interpretation of the universe, but they obviously did a great deal of good. Keeping Prisoner Zero out of mischief for as long as they had managed proved them earnest in the ways of galactic policing. For them, justice embodied the beliefs and absolutes that structured their entire perspective. They believed in justice after the same manner he believed in the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Take away their personal brand of justice, and they would become abject and lost.

"_What is the nature of the signal you plan to send?_"

The Doctor grinned, deciding to make up for his forbearance of a few moments earlier. "You'll know it when you see it." He hit the phone's end button. Then, keying up the device's onscreen keypad, he prepared to make good on that promise when a cacophony of snarling and barking brought him out of his reverie to recognize Prisoner Zero.

The middle-aged, balding electrician and his dog, serving as cover for the renegade alien, raged against them, stomping and pawing its way toward the quartet of mono-form bipeds. The Doctor let just a little of his antipathy show in his face. He stepped between the alien and his companions, brandishing his sonic screwdriver like a sabre.

"Ah. Prisoner Zero. How convenient to save us the trouble of tracking you down."

From behind him, he heard Rory whisper, "There's a Prisoner Zero now too?"

"Yes," Amy murmured back. "It's complicated."

Prisoner Zero kept coming on. "Hold it!" warned The Doctor. "Or do you want another taste of my sonic screwdriver?" It had the desired effect. Prisoner Zero traipse to a halt, both heads bearing wicked needle teeth. Rory started. Amy and Rose gathered closer around The Doctor.

The two adversaries faced each other, a stand-off reminiscent of the days of pistol duelling or a scene out of an old Spaghetti Western. Then, Prisoner Zero's attention strayed past him. The Doctor's ears picked up the hissing roar of an anti-gravity engine.

With relief and joy, The Doctor saw an Atraxi warship descend from the sky about half a kilometre away, just behind the bell tower of an old church. The craft reminded him of an ice-clad porcupine or demented snowflake. He could not help wondering who thought that was actually clever ship design. It made his worn out blue box look elegant by comparison.

Suspended by a force field at its core, a single, gigantic, eye-like structure darted about on its axis, searching the immediate vicinity. A scanning beam shot from the vessel's pupil, sweeping the town in what looked like a rather haphazard fashion.

"You know what?" The Doctor shrugged and turned back to Prisoner Zero. "That ship over there is searching this area for non-terrestrial technology." He tossed his screwdriver into the air like a baton thrower, catching it easily on the way down. Adjusting the control with his thumb, he aimed its emitter skyward. "And nothing says 'non-terrestrial' like one of these babies."

An intense whirr pulsed across the park as The Doctor depressed his sonic screwdriver's activator. He felt the device vibrating in his palm and clutched it all the tighter. An abrupt siren resounded as a nearby fire engine came alive, its radio spewing static. The windows in all the surrounding buildings began to crack and splinter, shattering inward. Not far off, the cell phone of a gawking bystander went to pieces as its screws spun themselves out of their holes.

"I think someone's going to notice this, don't you?"

Prisoner Zero watched, its expression changing from baffled rage to one of fear. It could not change form or use its shape shifting powers to escape without being detected, but remaining there might prove just as dangerous. The few remaining onlookers ran for their lives, thinking the Devil himself was on their heels, and still the Atraxi warship took no heed.

Out of sheer frustration, The Doctor ramped up his screwdriver's frequency and pointed it directly at the alien warden. Several lampposts switched on and then blew out an instant later. The red phone box he noted earlier erupted in a fountain of sparks.

Then, in its final act, The Doctor's sonic screwdriver failed catastrophically. A cloud of ionic gas scalded his fingers, and he dropped the flaming contraption onto the park's manicured lawn. He knelt over it, hoping to salvage something, but the tool was utterly ruined. Its telescopic barrel lay half ejected, twisted out of shape, its blue tip blackened and scorched. Fumes still billowed from the device, and if he'd learned one thing about electronics in his nine hundred plus years, it was that after you let the blue smoke out of them, they tended to never work again.

Amy, Rory, and Rose recoiled from the rain of flickering cinders. The Doctor pulled on his hair, snatching the device with his free hand, but it broke in two at his first touch. He dropped the white hot metal back to the ground and fumed.

"No, no. No! Don't do that to me!"

A dreadful sound followed. The Atraxi ship's gravitational engines engaged, its scanner beam deactivating as the pursuer abandoned its search to take it up elsewhere. The crystalline lattice craft spun on its horizontal axis, disappearing from view over a stand of old growth pine trees. All of them watched it go, The Doctor's incredulity perhaps surpassing that of the rest.

Amy brushed the hair from her face, looking confused, Rose more concerned. Rory looked somewhere neatly between angry and panic-stricken.

The Doctor? He wanted a lie down more than ever. "Where are you going?" he shouted. "Come back. He's right over there!" He threw his arms up in disgust, shouting more invectives at the departing ship.

"Doctor!" shouted Rose.

He turned just in time to see Prisoner Zero, a smug smile on its face, cascade into a billion sandy flecks and pour through the drain off grate it had been standing over all that time.

"The drain!" called Amy. "It just sorta melted and went down the drain."

"Well, of course it did."

"And what do we do now?" Amy insisted.

The Doctor thought about that for longer than he should have. His mouth went dry. "It's gone into hiding. We need to drive it into the open so it can be detected. Now our only option is to follow it into the sewers," he sulked. "Can't say I like that at all. Probably end up dead. No TARDIS. No screwdriver. Fifty-six minutes until the end of the world. Here's what we're going to do. Rory. Your mobile."

"You're still holding it," the nurse pointed out, annoyed.

The Doctor looked down at his hand in surprise and found he was correct. A few touches on the phone's screen brought up a text editor. Punching buttons faster than even his eyes could distinguish, lines of programming code appeared, scrolled and disappeared again as more and more characters pushed them off the screen.

"That thing hid in my house for twelve years?"

The Doctor did not even glance up. "Multiforms like that can live for a millennium. Twelve years is the proverbial pit stop."

"So why does it and that lot show up on the same day you come back?"

The Doctor noticed an error in his code, scrolled up to delete it, and went back to typing. "The aliens saw me through the crack. You're one of six billion, so they couldn't get a proper fix on you. I'm unique. They're only late because I am."

She appeared unconvinced, but let it go.

"Rory. Do you have pictures of all your coma patients on this thing? Or rather the multiform masquerading as your patients, I mean."

He nodded.

"Very good. Excellent work. Brilliant even. You may well have helped save the planet."

Rory turned bashful in a heartbeat, triggering an eye roll from Amy. Rose, tapping The Doctor on the shoulder, finally asked him what he was doing.

"I'm writing a computer virus. A very good one too. Quick to spread, a tiny bit alive, and a bit of a joke because it's going to delete itself in just over fifty-five minutes." He saved and compiled the file, opening up the phone's texting window. "Rose. I already know your number. What's yours, Amy?"

"It's in the contact list," Rory answered for her. "But what are you going to do with a computer virus?"

"It's a reset command. I'm sending it to Rose and your girl Friday. It's going to be your responsibility to send it to everyone on your contact lists and every other number you can think of. We need to spread this thing around like nobody's business. Whoever receives it needs to keep passing it on. Questions?"

"How do we convince people to unwittingly send around a computer virus?" asked Amy.

The Doctor froze. "I dunno. Good question," he said rapidly. "Oh! Make it a chain letter. No one can resist those. Now Rose and I are going to see about flushing Prisoner Zero out of that sewer." He finished saying it before he realized he had probably just made the all time worst pun. "Rory and Amy. You two get to the hospital and clear out the coma ward; the entire building if you can manage it. Move the comatose patients far enough and it should break the psychic link that allows Prisoner Zero to exploit them."

"How's that work?"

"If it doesn't know where to look for its pattern, then it can't make a proper copy. No more silly questions. Go!"

Amy grabbed Rory's hand and they were about to obey, when Rose called out to the redhead, halting her. "It's funny. Me and my mate Shareen. The only time we ever fell out was over a man." An odd expression crept onto her face. "I don't want The Doctor to become a wedge between us."

Amy laughed, taking Rose's hands in hers. "If we don't kill each other before the end of this, we might _just_ become friends."

And then they were off, both pairs running in opposite directions. While Amy and her boyfriend ran toward his old heap of a car, The Doctor and Rose made their way toward the nearest manhole cover.


	5. Chapter 4

I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and alerted for this story. It's just so encouraging!

oOo

Chapter 4

Rose waved a hand in front of her nose, a useless gesture she could not help repeating. The stench of human affluence came from every crevice and cleft, and especially the reeking water piddling along the stone passage. The drip of leaking pipes echoed in the distance, as did every splash of their footsteps.

Almost no light penetrated into the dark passage except through the occasional storm drain. Rose considered that a perk. She could imagine that even the rats here had gone fish belly pale from want of proper air and sun. Not exactly the triumph of Victorian architecture London sewers were supposed to be, not that she wanted to explore them either, this looked less akin to the catacombs of Paris or Rome, and more like a very narrow, plain, flooded subway tunnel.

Horrendous sludge skimmed the edges of the slow moving stream, thick, blackish green, and oily. The stench of the place defied description. It had hit her in the face like a birth slap the moment she descended into this darkness, and, supposing she like it, continually slapped her at every breath. Rose tried breathing through her mouth shortly after her arrival, but that had been worse. Then she could taste its potent miasma instead.

Silty, inky fluid flowed around her ankles. She did not even want to think about what she was wading through.

"Doctor," she said in mock-coquettish fashion. "You take me to the nicest places."

"Well, it's no Jewelled Lava Fields of Raxus Minor. I'll give you that."

Rose mentally compared his brief description to the stinking hole they trod now. She wondered if this man would ever consider taking her with him for a while. An alien world. She would love to travel the universe, all history and the future at her fingertips. The Doctor was a time traveller Did it really matter if he returned her to her home time right away? After all, he told her she was meant to accompany him at some point, so why care if those events occurred a little out of sequence? Her mother and Mickey would never miss her if The Doctor returned her only moments after her departure.

She shook the thought out of her head. They needed to concentrate on the matter at hand. If they failed to find Prisoner Zero before the hour's end, none of them would be going anywhere. Which reminded her of another question she had meant to ask.

"If Prisoner Zero can only imitate someone in a coma, does that mean there's a comatose dog somewhere?"

The Doctor shook his head. "If the coma patient dreams he's walking a dog, Prisoner Zero gets a dog. As you saw, it can twist the dream pretty much how it wants to."

She nodded, shuddering.

They kept moving along, hard shadows outlining a slender path stretching before them. Rose found herself wishing they had remembered to bring a torch... then recalled all the nasty things they could be seeing right now but were not. On second thought, things might be better like they were.

However, back to the subject of time travel, she finally felt sure beyond doubt that The Doctor really knew her. He had called for her to join him on this hike through the bowels of the city without once stopping to question her willingness on the matter. And quite frankly, he had assumed right.

This day, unlike anything Rose could imagine, had seen her participating in ventures which stretched her beyond what she thought herself capable of. Under the Doctor's direction, she had flipped switches and levers in the out of control TARDIS, aiding him to land the ship as well as he did. She discovered her life's duality, received a mild concussion from a kissogram who mistook her head for a large, blonde cricket ball, and nearly got her throat torn out by an alien werewolf... no not a werewolf.

Where had that come from? They were chasing a completely different type of therainthrope. But aside from that, she yearned to know how the day would end.

Other ideas flickered into her mind. She speculated about The Doctor, his enigmatic behaviour, and his apparent change of attitude toward her. He seemed so happy, thrilled even, to see her at first. In the TARDIS, he had behaved respectful, but overtly tender when he set her shoulder. However, over the last hours, she noticed him sinking ever more into cool aloofness. Part of her wondered if she had done something wrong.

But that did not explain all. It certainly did not explain the wistful, pained expressions he cast on her from time to time, masked a second later by that cheesy smile he so favoured. The sorrow was so brief that she doubted at first whether she had seen it correctly.

She experienced the same thing many times before. Whenever her mother reminisced over her father but thought Rose was not paying attention, that expression manifested itself on her face. Then, when Rose crept into her mother's frame of vision, the melancholy would recede behind smiles and casual gossip.

A dark notion materialized unbidden in Rose's heart. Had her future self travelled alongside The Doctor only to die in a way that still haunted him? She hardly possessed nerve enough to ask.

Still, Rose plucked up her courage, striding forward so he could not help seeing her in his peripheral vision. "Doctor? I du-ahh!" She cut off abruptly as an object beneath the water snagged her foot, sending her off balance.

The Doctor whipped around to catch her, but a moment too late. She fell on her hands and knees in the disgusting fluid. A crest of silt splashed to within an inch of her nose. The added closeness made Rose nearly relinquish her New Year's Eve crisps and dip. Her stomach lurched. She felt all around filthy, and could not so much as change her clothing until the TARDIS saw fit to let them in.

"Eww!" gasped Rose in a clipped nasal tone.

"Are you all right, Rose?" asked The Doctor in concern.

"Yeah," she replied, pulling herself together. An empty milk carton floated in front of her eyes. She squinted at it, thinking at first it was out of focus. Then she realized the distortion in its logo stemmed from a thick, gelatinous mucus coating the cardboard surface. An unpleasant sort of excitement stole into her.

Plucking the litter out of the waste water, she held it up for The Doctor. "Look at this, Doctor!" she called. "It looks just like that stuff that was coating your sonic screwdriver."

Disregarding all sanitation, he grabbed the carton out of her hand. Rubbing a bit of the mucus between finger and thumb, The Doctor sniffed it before wiping his digits dry on his tattered shirt. "This secretion is a by-product of the multiform's transformation process." He flashed his pearly whites at her. "You brilliant, brilliant girl! We're on the right track after all!"

oOo

They pursued their course with renewed vigour The Doctor took point, making sure that whatever happened, it happened to him first. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary in that darkened passage. Aside from the clue Rose found, he might have second guessed whether Prisoner Zero had come this way after all.

"Why does Prisoner Zero have so much trouble talking out of the right mouth?"

The Doctor shrugged. "It's a confusing thing to have more than one head. Most shape shifters never even attempt it. I met a galactic president once who had two heads and couldn't keep either of them on straight, especially when he'd been drinking. But I digress." He contemplated his answer before continuing. "Prisoner Zero is like a ventriloquist and dummy who can't remember which is which. Hey. That reminds me. One of the last times I strolled through England's sewers I ended up fighting a big honking rat. Hope they don't have any of those in these parts."

The Doctor threaded his way around several unpleasantly ambiguous objects in the water. His sneakers squelched with every step he took. Ignoring the sounds and smells as best he could, The Doctor kept going. He felt Rose's eyes on him.

"You have the moves, don't you?" she joked.

The muscles in his shoulders tensed. "What was that?"

"I dunno." Rose giggled. "You looked like you were doing the foxtrot there for a second."

He wanted to answer, but his chest ached at the memory her words invoked. He remembered Rose and his previous incarnation once removed, dancing for the first time in the TARDIS over nineteen forty-one Britain. Fear and sorrow nearly bested him.

"Doctor. Are you angry with me?"

He started. "No. Not at all. Why would I be?" But he could not look at her. The Doctor struggled deep in his soul for the strength to assure her that everything was all right. His voice refused to flow.

The Doctor found himself studying her, the fine lines of concern creeping around his eyes and mouth. Having Rose with him proved both torture and pleasure. Her presence made him feel more alive than he had in years. Instead of running away from the shadows of his past, for once he wanted to run toward something for all he was worth and he could not. When the TARDIS finished rebuilding itself, the first thing he must do was lose her again, and probably wipe her memory into the bargain.

Rose pressed on. "Well, you know. I wanted to make sure I'm not holding you back or anything. You seem preoccupied."

_I'm scared to death of you. I'm scared to death _for_ you. But how can I tell you that?_

"I've just been distracted is all," he said, and then realized he had just repeated her.

"My point exactly," said she, smiling. "So is this what you do all the time? Is this the life of The Doctor, a wandering angel saving the lives of people who can never thank him?"

"Blimey. We're chasing an alien through the sewer for crying out loud. You want to talk about this now? Can't it wait for a locale that doesn't smell of methane and stale pee?" He spoke harsher than he intended, and regretted it when he caught the hurt in her eyes.

It knocked the wind out of him as well. This incarnation of himself still possessed much of the baggage of the last; still rude and not ginger. He had just determined in his mind to apologize when a surge of tension filled the air. Halting, The Doctor listened, but lurched forward when Rose walked square into his back. He steadied himself before he could take a header, breathing a sigh of relief. Rose grimaced, waving ruefully.

The moment was broken, The Doctor's fears fully awakened, when the chilling sound of metal grating against metal brought them both up staring, eyes wide and hearts beating wildly.

oOo

Rose craned her head around, trying to get a fix on the sound's origin. "Who's that mucking about?"

In reply, the wet kiss of releasing hydraulics resounded from somewhere far off, followed by a rolling thunder she could not identify. A tremor vibrated down the passage, hard enough to rattle the fillings in her teeth.

The trickle of water dribbling from a broken pipe became more insistent. Rose watched it, intuition presaging what was to come. Thunder became a rushing torrent, and then a vertical geyser spewed from the pipe. It struck The Doctor full force, laying him out broad length, leaving him sputtering and groping for a handhold to claw himself up by. Rose ran to him, fetid water rising higher up her legs. She got him standing despite his flailing.

"Are you okay?"

"Just ducky."

"What do we do, Doctor?"

The Doctor clapped her on the back. "Sure this looks ominous, but don't worry though. We'll be okay as long as we don't get," another rasping noise interrupted him. More than six meters behind them, a pressure gate began sliding shut. The Doctor's shoulders slumped in mute tribute to the irony. "… bottled up in here."

Rose's muscles froze in horror. "You had to say it." Scarcely had the first gate half closed when a second, nearly ten meters ahead, started grinding itself shut as well. Water continued to swirl around her calves.

The Doctor stirred. He took her hand in his and she looked up into his eyes, seeing them darken as he uttered one irrefutable command. "Run."

That word broke the spell which fogged her mind and they rushed toward the second closing door. Unfortunately, after only a few steps, she came to the conclusion that they would never make it. Torrents flew into the air at every step, but each stride took more effort than the last as the water rose. They had covered half the distance, but the double-panel of steel had nearly made it across the tunnel. An opening of barely an arm's length remained, shrinking by the second as they barrelled towards the gap.

Ahead, Rose spotted a rusted piece of pipe leaning against the wall. Not letting go of her companion, she stretched out to catch metal bar, lugging it above her shoulder like a javelin. The Doctor pulled her back to him. He fished into his pocket, presumably for his sonic screwdriver, and of course came up empty.

Rose dug in her heels, wrenching The Doctor to a halt. They were already too late to squeeze through the diminished hatchway. Extending her arm behind her, she launched her impromptu missile at the sealing sluice gate. The pipe jammed in the opening, flattened under the door's weight, and wedged it ajar about a finger's width.

Aside from the burble of water, silence eclipsed the pair as their eyes burned into heavy gauge steel door that blocked their way to freedom. The Doctor strode forward, banging his fist against it in frustration before backing off to assess the situation more rationally.

"Okay. There are no ways to the surface from this section of tunnel, and no side corridors. Thanks to you we have a few centimetre gap to let water out of this rat trap, but the level is still rising fast." He peered through the narrow slit between the pressure gate and wall. "No buttons or levers visible on the other side. So what are our assets? All I have is acute overconfidence and a pocket full of mumbles. The two of us together could struggle 'til doomsday and we wouldn't budge that door."

"But what about me?" questioned Rose, her mind in a tizzy.

The Doctor frowned, not understanding. "Thanks for the offer, but I seriously doubt you would make a decent battering ram."

"No!" she shouted back, trying to make herself heard over the pandemonium. "I have a future with you, don't I? That means I _can't_ die. We must make it out."

An edge of alarm crept onto his face. "I'm sorry, Rose. I'm so, so sorry. Time doesn't work like that. But it's even worse. The first time we met you saved my life. If you're not there to do that it becomes a paradox. Some paradoxes are self sustaining so they don't hurt anything. This would be on the order of the universe shattering variety."

"That sounds a tad bit icky," said Rose unhelpfully.

The Doctor nodded. "It usually is when history starts circling the drain. Almost as unpleasant as this water that keeps whirling around my legs." He broke off and frowned. "Wait, yeah. Why is there water swirling around my legs? There wasn't any drain under me."

A glimmer of hope sparked in Rose's mind. The Doctor dunked a hand into the water to better feel the rogue current, an easy task since the level had risen nearly to his waist. He waded a few steps further on, backtracked a pace or two, and then turned toward the stone wall. Rose followed, discretely watching as he fingered the mildew-coated masonry. After prodding a section of wall beneath the water with the toe of his sneaker he pounded on it further up with his fist. It rang hollow.

"What is it, Doctor?"

Signalling for her to approach, The Doctor pointed to the barrier. "I feel water escaping through this stonework." He sized up the wall in another long glance. "I think there might be another passage on the other side of here, and it looks like some of the mortar has rotted away over time. Let's hear it for the cutting of budgetary corners."

He shouldered the stone and rammed against it, but Rose could not see it budge. Repeating the process yielded the same result. The Doctor growled under his breath, back-pedalled a step and tried a third time. His face contorting in pain, The Doctor staggered, holding his shoulder.

"Give me a hand," he requested. "The water is impeding my movements too much, but I think the two of us together can punch through." Rose obeyed, standing by him as each of them braced themselves. The Doctor went on. "Ready? On three… One…"

"Two," continued Rose.

And they both shouted. "Three!"

They struck simultaneously, and the next few moments became a blur. The sharp rasp of disintegrating granite and sand rose to a pitch that briefly drowned out the roar of water. What previously looked like solid stone shattered into brick-sized stone blocks. Her world began spinning head over heels. Rose caught the briefest glimpse of a falling rock that barely missed her ear and then felt a tidal wave wash her into the next passage.

Rose submerged almost entirely for a second time. A crest of brackish fluid fought to inundate her mouth and nose, but then a solid surface reached up to bring her world back into perspective.

The next thing she knew, both Rose and Doctor lay spluttering on a damp, dark concrete floor.

oOo

The Doctor felt like a wrung dishcloth that had been laid out on the bathtub rim to dry. Comparatively pure water drained away leaving him even more of a dishevelled mess than ever. Pushing himself onto his hands and knees, he saw Rose wiping grit off her arms and clothing. Prying his attention from her, he surveyed their new environment. This side passage screamed "inviting" nearly as much as the last. Its only advantage was the singular lack of a jury-rigged death trap. The tunnel stretched in both directions, fading into fuzzy blackness save for the occasional pinprick of light.

"Well. We both seem intact after our last little adventure," he said, quite proud of himself for coming across so casual. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together as if anxious for more.

Rose looked a bit green around the gills. "That whole mishap was painfully like being drunk. I just never experienced it from the tumbler's point of view before."

"Stick with me long enough, Rose Tyler, and you'll experience stranger things than that." He said it in jest, but could have kicked himself afterwards. He had near enough made an offer to her he could never fulfil Running his fingers through his hair, he got to his feet and held out a hand to help Rose to hers. "Nice job, by the way, with that hunk of pipe. Though you always were handy with blunt and edged objects now that I recall."

Rose laughed, pushing a tangle of damp blonde tendrils out of her face. "Like a certain redhead I can think of."

"You do have a point at that," The Doctor admitted. He took a few steps down the passage. "I can't see a thing in here. If we try slumming here in the dark we'll only end up with broken necks for our trouble."

Rose pulled out her cell phone and hinged open the flip. To her evident surprise, aside from a little liquid damage on the screen, it was in perfect working order. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Then don't let's go stumbling around blind." She shined the mobile device's back light all about the passage. It provided enough illumination to walk by, barely.

He descried in its meagre glow a gray corridor, once dry but now dampened by the escaping flood. Lining either side of the ceiling, conduits packed with high voltage power cables hummed with the telltale signs of electric current.

The Doctor closed one eye, squinting through the other. He pointed along the passage, tracing the conduits until they vanished into the gloom. Another notion took hold of him and he pulled Rory's smart phone from his trouser pocket. To his relief, the tough material had shielded it from the worst effects of his recent dunking. He thought about adding its contribution to the light of Rose's cell, but he could not risk running down the battery.

"This is like as not to get worse before it gets better. Are you ready?"

"Born ready," she said without hesitation.

They walked in silence for several minutes, Rose occasionally tapping a random button on the phone's keypad to wake it up. The darkness receded step by step as they advanced, but saturnine heaviness crushed in behind like a visceral force. Rose and The Doctor kept a constant watch for side paths that might take them back to the sewer line. If Prisoner Zero had been so anxious to stop them dead, The Doctor would bet money that they had come close to catching it.

Getting back on the right track might mean the difference in saving the world. Trudging further on, the sense of another low level vibration gradually began to register on his senses. Five more minutes passed. The vibration grew into an oscillation, not quite a sound, but an exchange of force not unlike the magnetic lines of flux generated by the electric wires surrounding them.

A faint odour wafted into his nostrils, the first whiff of sewer gas he had inhaled in several minutes. His nose wrinkled involuntarily as The Doctor searched for a shaft or vent he knew must lead back to their previous road, but none presented itself to his eager eye. Beside him, Rose stayed absolutely silent, perhaps dimly aware of what The Doctor himself sensed.

Each segment of tunnel remained indistinguishable from the last for more time than he wished to concede wasting. Then, he spotted the discrepancy he'd been searching for. Given the jumbled state of his mind, he might have missed it twenty minutes earlier, but now it glared at him like a diamond in the midst of obsidian.

oOo

Rose followed The Doctor along the corridor for what felt like a small eternity. She saw him glancing furtively at the bare, blank walls and pipes running along the ceiling. Neither of them spoke a word, Rose fearing too much noise might draw further unwanted attention from Prisoner Zero.

Her phone beeped a warning at her. Displayed on its damaged LCD, Rose noticed the battery indicator blinking a low battery signal. She remembered charging it before leaving for her New Year's Eve party. The wetting it received must have spoiled more than the screen after all.

The Doctor stopped with a rapidity that nearly had her tripping over him for a second time. He cast a critical eye at the ceiling. Then to her utter surprise, he spun ninety degrees to his left and walked straight through the wall. Neither a drop of blood, nor a Doctor shaped aperture marked his passage from one side of the solid rock to the other. He was simply gone.

"Doctor?"

No answer ensued. Rose called to him a second time to the same result. Something made her resist the urge to reach out and touch the spot where he vanished. Turning away, she observed the place The Doctor had been looking before performing his mysterious vanishing act. All she saw was a rent in the steel jacket protecting the subterranean cables.

Rose frowned. Extending from the tubing, a pair of snaking wires disappeared into the masonry. On closer inspection, she realized that the lines passed, not into a grommet or section of tubing, but directly into the centre of a stone brick. Thrusting out her jaw as she thought, Rose approached the wall again, stopping a hand's breadth from the ageing stonework.

Stretching out a timid hand, she went to finger the mold-laden surface, retreating from the contact like it might burn her.

"C'mon, Tyler if you're coming!" called The Doctor's voice, echoing in her ears like he could have been standing right next to her.

Feeling slightly foolish, she swallowed her incredulity, closing her eyes and stepping forward. A thrill of nerves whispered over her skin.

"You're here. You can open your eyes now."

She did, finding herself in the sewer tunnel. Perplexed bafflement crimsoned over her cheeks. The Doctor waited for her to speak, holding his hands behind him, his eyes twinkling in childlike devilment. He stood next to a large device, built from the odds and ends of a million bits of scavenged scraps.

The cables she had seen coming through the wall were attached to the body of an old clothes dryer. This served as framework for a machination consisting of what looked like a food processor, several small electric fans, a bicycle's gearing system and chain, and the bristles of a common yard rake and broom. A digital clock displayed unusual, shifting characters while an ancient calculator served for a user interface alongside a computer keyboard and a motley assortment of knobs and dials.

Topping the cockamamie creation, a pair of rabbit ear antennas looped behind the device where she saw them wired into a mass of carefully tuned coiled wire. Jutting out of one side, Rose sighted a Van de Graaff generator like the one she'd seen during a science fair back in school. The entire device buzzed with activity. Lights, pulleys, and motors all worked and spun at a surprising speed, hinting that the device, whatever it might be, probably drew a significant amount of power.

The machine disregarded all sanity. She pointed to it, mouth trying to form words. Only then did she notice the coating of half dried translucent ooze coating portions of its surface.

"You want to know what this is?" asked The Doctor, barely suppressed excitement evident in every fibre of his being.

Rose nodded.

"Well, if you were to ask me, I'd say it's the perception field generation pod Prisoner Zero has been using to mask its activities. I bet there are all kinds of interesting gismos inside. Leyden jars full of ammonia, wing nuts, pantaloons, that kind of thing. However, at the moment that's not so important."

"What're they for?" She strode to his side as The Doctor crouched to open a panel in the appliance and reached a second time, in obvious annoyance, unsuccessfully for his sonic screwdriver.

"Mostly giggles," he answered at last. "But they are useful as well. This thing generates blind spots to hide in. For instance, Prisoner Zero used it to disguise that access hatch you walked through as a wall to keep any passersby from discovering what it hid down here. And it veiled the door and itself in Amy's house."

The Doctor continued to poke and prod at the generator's innards. "I was wrong. There's a felt cap in here. No fancy pants for Prisoner Zero." Pulling a plug from its socket, he placed it to one side. Next he yanked a lone wire loose and shorted it against the machine's frame. He grabbed another bit of unattached rubber tubing and tied a knot in it before dropping it back into the housing. Then he extracted and pocketed several old radio tubes, before going back to tinkering with parts deeper inside than she could see.

"I'll give you a lesson, Rose. It should be very informative and not a little harrowing. Perception filter generators are almost always produced by growing organic, semi-psychic bio-structures in a lab. To build something like this out of low-tech parts is very difficult; nearly impossible. But you know what is easy to make out just about anything?"

"What?"

He clicked the plug from earlier back into place and flipped a large, opalescent switch. "A bomb."

Another shot of adrenaline made her heart flutter. "You're tellin' me it's gonna explode?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah. I'm afraid that is implicit. The generator pod is charging up for detonation in about," he paused fingering his chin while he calculated. "Twenty-seven seconds." Flashing his pearly whites, he grabbed Rose's hand. "You know? On second thought, run for your life."

They took off without further ceremony, fleeing along the sewer passage like an army of ghouls tread on their heels. Rose was exhausted, but dared not falter. If possible, they ran faster than when the floodgates threatened to trap them. The Doctor halted by the foot of a crude steel ladder. Muted sunlight streamed down at them from perforations in a manhole cover far above.

Not stopping to dicker over who should go first, he ascended the rungs for about three meters, meeting a metal slab that impeded his progress. The Doctor strained against it for several seconds, finally breaking the seal of grit and mud, shoving the disc shaped sheet out of the way in an accompaniment of grinding, gravel and grunts.

After watching him scuttle out onto the macadam, Rose took to the ladder in pursuit. Though climbing for all she was worth, she barely made it half way when a concussive _whump_ shook the air, sending a shudder through the solid masonry encompassing her. Down the tunnel, a florescent green fireball came billowing towards her. In her haste to climb, she missed her footing, sending her gunk covered boots kicking into open space.

Rose clutched the crossbars in a panic. A peek showed flames licking their way up the tunnel as self-igniting gasses became fuel for the tide of destruction. She thrashed her legs until traction returned, and scrambled desperately to make up for lost time. Then, an unearthly force lifted her off her feet, launching her skyward. Before she knew what was happening, Rose went shooting from darkness into full daylight, a cannonball firing from an old breech-loader.

Out of nowhere, the Doctor's arms encircled her waist and they both went tumbling to the pavement. Her impact with The Doctor knocked them both back. A strange exhilaration seared every nerve. A plethora of emotions competed for expression and she scarcely knew what to feel first. They hit the ground, rolling into a ditch beside the road, laughing in concert as endorphins and excitement overwhelmed them.

Rose continued in her hysterics until tears streamed from between her eyelids, unable to believe the outlandish succession of events she had inexplicably managed to live through. And strangest of all, she had loved every moment of it.

oOo

The Doctor regained full possession of his wits first, wondering to himself why his companion was still laughing so hard. Twisting around to face the uproarious teen, he looked over at Rose's messy blonde head and heaving shoulders, not entirely comprehending.

"You didn't quite think that one through, did you, mate?" she panted at last.

And there it was. Over the years of separation, The Doctor had nearly forgotten how much Rose liked irony. He beamed an embarrassed smirk. "Admittedly... no, but it's the results that count, right?"

Her laughter eventually subsided. They helped each other out of the trench and took in their surroundings. Finding himself nowhere near where they first entered that subterranean cesspool, from what Amy and Rory told him, he judged they had travelled almost due north in the direction of the hospital. They surfaced near a fire house, a tidy little yard fronting it.

Worn nearly to the bone, The Doctor looked for a place to take a quick breather. He led Rose toward a wrought iron bench across from the fire station and sunk into it brusquely, his mind bustling to craft a plan to save the day which had fewer holes in it than his attire.

Rose pulled off her jacket, tossing it in a nearby waste can, then plopped down beside him and put her head in her hands. Never one for shyness, she snuggled herself next to him like peas in a pod. The scene remained quiet, save for the song of a robin in the trees above. Rose must have wanted comfort, for he could sense the tumult of her mind.

There was little comfort to go around, and The Doctor battled in himself to maintain a cheery countenance. He sighed, striving for nonchalance.

"So. Feeling primed to travel?"

Rose's humour abruptly shifted. Her gaze became nebulous, a symptom of persistent focus on the middle distance. She seemed to recede into herself.

"I dunno," she replied, her tone moody. It struck him she sounded just like the old Rose after she got her first glimpse of his previous body. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder. To his surprise, Rose avoided the contact, staring instead at her hands and fingers, showing more interest in them than they had any right to receive.

"Tell me the truth," she began in a flourish of boldness. Then Rose cut off, second guessing herself. "Do... do we still have any chance of recapturing Prisoner Zero?" Her face hardened in annoyance at her own reluctance. He decided to let it go.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. There's always a chance."

"Doctor!" she half scolded. "Don't tell me 'the truth' unless it can actually happen."

"Well. There are chances and there are _chances._" He glanced up at the sun's position to roughly gauge their remaining time. "It would certainly help if we knew where Prisoner Zero was headed."

"Granted. So what do we do from here?"

He shrugged, standing again to stretch his legs. "Probably something ingenious. I find that works best."

Rose followed his example, but her expression waxed dubious. "Can I assume that by 'ingenious' you mean 'dangerous and completely improvised?'"

"I'll let you know when I think of it," he said with a wink.

He turned to scout the area more fully when she stayed him by seizing his hand in hers. The desperate longing he caught in her eyes nearly frightened him.

Rose took a deep breath. "I have to know, Doctor. I travelled with you in your past, but I'm not now. What happened to me?"

The Doctor was outwardly calm, his face inscrutable as he rapidly made up his mind how to reply to such a complicated question. She glanced up at him and he pressed his lips together in such a way as to resemble a smile without actually being one, and she drew what reassurance she could from the unwavering warmth in his eyes. He heard his mouth smack as he opened it to speak.

"You found a better man."

To this, Rose responded by knitting her brows together. She scrutinized his face, and for the first time it occurred to him that he had yet to see it himself. It was too easy to picture himself as he once was and pretend that after all this, Rose Tyler and The Doctor could fly away in the TARDIS as he always dreamed they would.

Her brown eyes drilled into his. She continued unblinking for a dozen heartbeats. Then, ill concealing her dissatisfaction, she nodded.

Face sober, arms folded tight over his chest, tyranny of the urgent reasserted itself. "We really have to move." He shrugged mentally as he added, "Well, you don't. You could always..." He wound down to silence, leaving his words hanging in the stale breeze.

She stared. "Stay here?" she interjected, bristling noticeably at the idea. "Not a chance!"

The Doctor's hearts swelled in relief.

"Onward and upward, then," he replied, brushing the issue aside while he could still focus. "Now. What we need to do next is get to the hospital. Whether or not Prisoner Zero realizes it can't use its perception filter anymore, the next thing it's likely to do is check on its supply of spare disguises."

"Okay," Rose agreed.

"And since Prisoner Zero has a head start on us, we'll want to get there quickly." He looked along the street for a high-powered car or truck to commandeer. "We need a fast vehicle; preferably something people will get out of the way of."

She gave him a teasing look and pointed behind him. He spun round, but saw nothing. "What?"

Rose motioned again. He turned to look at the fire house a second time, not getting the picture, returning to her with another quizzical expression. "What?"

Clearly hoping the third time would be the charm, she held out her index finger until he followed the line she indicated. A bright red fire engine sat parked unattended in the sun's tepid rays. Even though he loved the TARDIS, The Doctor felt man's baser instincts assert themselves, the desire to grab the biggest and flashiest toys.

He faced her with fresh admiration, what would probably be a foolish-looking grin tickling his lips. "Fantastic!"

But half way to it, he checked his run. "Wait. I doubt they left the key in the ignition and I don't have my sonic. How are we supposed to get it going."

She smiled coyly. "I'll hot wire it, of course. It'll only take a moment."

The Doctor almost laughed. Full of hidden deeps and broad shallows this one was. And she never ceased to amaze him.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sleek, glistening, eel-like, it slithered along the malodorous water, skimming the surface in its natural form. The creature hated such confining isolation. It deserved more and far better than this. Hiding in a lovelorn human's spare room and skulking in sewers degraded it beyond all measure. Brief strolls among the ignorant masses did little to assuage such empty drudgery.

And yet all this was _freedom_ in comparison to the specially constructed cell the Atraxi had confined it to for at least three hundred of Earth's planetary revolutions. The gall of those supercilious guardians, caging a master such as itself. They had stripped it of its name, assigning it a number of meaningless worth. Its name had once stricken terror into the souls of billions, and the Atraxi dared to restrain it in a maximum security, iono-steel, force field enclosed nightmare. Now only the Atraxi themselves remembered its original nom de plume, and that only in the deepest recesses of their prisoner catalogues

Sloshing through filth and mire, the creature exalted in the fact that this planet would burn in less than thirty minutes, one final triumph to add to its everlasting legacy. The fact that it had forced the foolish Atraxi to pull the trigger themselves only added to its gloating. Best of all, the only man who could possibly stop the countdown was even now floating lifeless in the bowels of this universal lavatory.

The Shadow Proclamation would attempt to bring the Atraxi in on charges under their own articles, and both organizations would do their best to break the back of the other. It might even lead to war between the two groups. If only the Judoon could bumble their way into the conflict everything would be perfect.

To think. In defeating The Doctor, it had succeeded where the Pyrovile, the Trickster, even Davros and his precious Daleks had failed. Poor, pathetic Doctor. Without his ship or his gadgetry, he withered to no more of a threat than the other clumsy bipeds clinging to the mineral crust of this worthless celestial ball.

It had nearly reached its destination when the dullest reverberation came ringing up the tunnel from far behind it. Stopping, the creature slithered around to face the source, but could detect no signs of its being followed. Scissoring its needle teeth, the fugitive resumed its earlier trajectory. Its body wriggled at an incredible speed, propelling the creature along like a serpentine motor launch.

Soon. So very soon, another world would plunge into the universe's great silence.

oOo

Amy sat in the passenger's seat watching signposts zip by while Rory piloted his boxy old maroon car towards the hospital. Virtually no cars passed him in the other lane. Though the decided lack of traffic might work to their advantage travel wise, it served as a constant reminder of how decidedly wrong this day was going. The unnatural midday twilight bothered him more than he cared to admit, especially given The Doctor's brisk, but pointed warning about destruction to come.

The empty roads hinted at the huddled millions trembling in their basements, hoping that not witnessing the danger would make it go away. The few cars they did meet contained occupants who appeared anxious to join the masses of cowering ostriches. Rory felt inclined to do the same, but doubted it would do any good.

Five minutes passed, then six, and his ginger snap girlfriend had never been so quiet. All the while, she silently typed out emails on her cell, attaching The Doctor's virus and sending them on their merry way. A sidelong glance showed her inserting the address of her old admirer Jeff into the recipient box, and he swallowed a flare up of unreasonable jealousy. He kept waiting, hoping Amy might concede to start explaining how her childhood imaginary friend unexpectedly landed in present day real life, bringing a London teenager, a shape shifting convict and alien jail keepers that looked straight out of a bad science fiction two reel.

"Amy?" he said at last.

She pressed the send key on another message and faced him. "Yeah?"

"Sorry to keep looping back to this and all, but The Raggedy Doctor?"

"What about him? He's trying to find Prisoner Zero."

"But he was just a story. How is he here? He was never real!"

"Don't make me bite you," she purred in the loving, teasing tone she had used around him since they were kids. He blushed at her amorous double entendre, doing his best to keep his eyes off Amy's skirt and on the road where they belonged.

"You said he came falling out of the sky one night and vanished again in his magical talking box."

"Yeah," she said in confusion. "He came back."

His mind fled back to what might be called simpler days. Once upon a time, Amelia Pond and Rory Williams would frolic in her backyard. He and his parents had moved into town the day after his twelfth birthday.

His father, desiring retirement to help deal with a nervous complaint, took a job as a country practitioner after leaving a hospital in Kent. The new kid in town, Amelia had taken him under her wing so to speak. They became fast friends despite a sharp opposition of character. Amelia, passionate, bullheaded, and eager in everything she did, constantly tried to draw out her quieter partner in crime. When she learned that Rory wanted to follow his father's footsteps into the medical field, her interest in him perceptibly altered. It did not take a brain surgeon to discover why.

Neither of them ever really fit in with the crowd, but they both had their mates and they had each other. And of course, they had their games.

"You used to make me dress up as him."

Amy's lips compressed as she giggled, her face lighting at the memory. It distracted her enough that her fingers paused in their ceaseless keying. She brushed her long red hair over one shoulder and he caught a whiff of her perfume. The scent drew his attention from the road again.

"And," Rory continued, "what about that girl he had with him?"

Her entire body contracted just a little and Amy set her phone down into her lap without knowing it. "Umm… I think she might have been the 'talking' part of the ship. I was a kid and all, and-"

Rory saw his opportunity. "Pretty ship," he commented, hiding a smirk. "Not to mention a lot less boxy than you described."

She gave him a gentle sock in the arm, more playful than annoyed. Rory grinned at her, his smile rife with loyal devotion. The banter continued in a light-hearted manner, either participant teasing the other like the world was not about to end.

Suddenly, Amy gasped, pointing out the wind shield in frantic abandon. "Watch out!"

Rory's eyes snapped forward again. The sight that presented itself nearly froze the blood in his veins. Choking down a colourless curse of the English middleclass, he slammed on the brakes, bringing his car to an abrupt, screeching halt. The momentum made his seatbelt nearly strangle him, and he felt something of the wild giddiness of a rollercoaster dipping along a steep drop.

Amy let out a yelp, clutching his shoulder until the wheels stopped screaming. When the dust settled, Rory sat staring at the sight which prompted his sacrifice of a good quarter inch of tire tread. A traffic jam, including several fender benders and a smoking sports car on the shoulder of the road, spread in front of them for a half a kilometre Many people stood gaping outside their vehicles, staring into the sky, frightened into statues by the craft hovering overhead.

Five Atraxi warships lingered over the confusion. Two of the crystalline vessels remained stationary at the nucleus of traffic congestion. Two other patrolled either end of the chaotic line-up, one of them nearly above Rory's car. The third circled the entire grouping, dissuading those who might try to escape. He could not believe he had missed the things until that last moment, though Amy did have charms to distract the savage breast.

After all, the redhead might have succeeded in getting her driver's permit sooner than he did, but Rory would shudder to trust her behind the wheel of his own car. The only reason she'd managed her accomplishment, which she never failed to boast of, was because she wore a shorter skirt come test day than the one she wore now. Rory had seen Amy handle a car on numerous nail-biting occasions. Her driving instructor… well, not so much. Charms to distract, and all that rot.

It took some time, but he eventually gathered that ships were processing travellers who tried to navigate the road, forcing cars to stop while scanning beams swept over every inch of both vehicle and passengers. The line was long, but moved relatively swift despite the mass and disarray of panicky motorists.

Trees and scrub along the edge of the road grew too thick for cars to manoeuvre or turn properly, providing the vehicles no choice but to continue their forward trek at the Atraxi's leisure. Thorn bushes and nettles along the roadside meant no one could slip into the woods to avoid the barricade. It was a strategically brilliant, but blasted annoying move on the part of the Atraxi.

They drew gradually closer as the line of traffic progressed. Rory saw in relief that, after examining each car or truck, the aliens released them to motor on their way. It explained the decided lack, and the accompanying distress, of opposing cars he had noted earlier.

Still, the delay grated on his nerve, and even more so on Amy's. She hated inaction. Texting nearly forgotten as they inched along the road, Amy sat drumming her fingers on the dashboard.

"Come on, alien boys! Make like the world's ending here, ya know?"

Rory gave a silent nod, privately thinking her complaints an exercise in futility. Not even The Doctor could break through the bureaucratic overload which passed for command of the Atraxi. The ships continued their watchful survey of the area, oblivious to registered nurses, kissograms, and their all-important errands.

Finally, they were three cars back from the hovering Atraxi craft and its scanning beam. In a minute or two, Amy and Rory would be on their way, well enough delay and all. About nine meters above them, the ship's luminescent eye swept rays of light over another vehicle. However, unlike previous times this process had been repeated, the occupant in the passenger's side twisted in his seat like a cat whose tail had been rolled over by a grand piano. Shrieking, he flung open the door, kicking his way out of the seatbelt, much to the driver's dismay.

"Alien intruders!" Rory heard the man shouting through his open window. "You expect us to play nice while you take over the planet? Nothing doing, monsters!" He seized a rock from the roadside and threw it at the Atraxi craft with all his might.

Whizzing through the air, the stone struck its target directly in the eye-like pod. To Rory's surprise, the ship's sensors sputtered off, the ship itself twitching skyward in a spasmodic jerk. It focused its massive iris on the screaming human. The eye's pupil went from black to blazing red. A greenish-yellow shaft of light flashed upon the man, paralysing him in mid gyration.

"What is it doing?" questioned Amy, aghast.

"I dunno," said a puzzled Rory.

The green-gold light attenuated, and to Rory's horror, the man caught inside its unnatural luminance evaporated, fading as a mirage on a hot day. If the Atraxi thought this act of might would frighten the remaining humans into compliance, they miscalculated this time.

The crowd erupted in panic.

Previously taciturn motorists bullied their way out of their cars, twisting and screaming on mass like extras in an old sci-fi flick.

The Atraxi attempted to remedy this by erecting a force field around the detention area. If an earthquake had rocked the quarter, it could not have caused greater chaos. Terrified citizens fled only to bounce off the glassy barrier, pick themselves up and all but trample each other as they charged screaming in another random direction only to bounce off again.

The whole thing made Rory feel a bit ill. He could imagine a good deal of bruised knees and scraped shins coming of it, and he did not have time or astringent pads to treat any of them. One man wove through the protesting captives, nearly reaching the car when an elbow struck him beneath the chin, knocking him to the asphalt. Another squatted to help him but was battered onto his face by the crowd. People used fists, feet, and shoulders liberally to gain their freedom, screams and blows raining down like last call on a St. Patty's day binge.

He heard a stifled gurgle beside him and turned to face his companion. Amy shook in rage at the callous behaviour of the Atraxi. She all but kicked her door open, and stood in muddled twilight. A wiry girl running the other way nearly knocked Amy down. She caught the semi-feral woman, who struggled to free herself, gawking back over her shoulder in a frightened lather. Finally she broke loose, running blind into a parked van, knocking herself unconscious in the process.

Rory boiled out of the car after Amy, pushing through a crowd to reach her before she could be trodden to death. Oblivious to the danger, his girlfriend pressed against the raw human tide. Rory contemplated trying to stay her, but then thought better of it. Amy had worked herself up into a fine Scottish temper and nothing could stop her now. People like Amy, with that hair and a determined set to their jaw, might have been angels most of the time, but when they took off their halos, they never did so by halves.

Fire in her eyes, Amy stomped up to the lead Atraxi ship, pointing at it. It did not notice her, occupied in corralling the escapees. She stamped her foot, shouting for all she was worth.

"Oy, you!" she cried. "Yeah, you! Big, bright, and ugly!"

Rory expected the ship to keep ignoring her, but instead it focused on her slight frame, dropping in altitude to loom just overhead. The unblinking eye stared at her for some moments. At that distance, Rory could see what looked like servos and microcircuits woven into the muscle of the iris. It intrigued him in a frightened sort of way, and he found himself gazing into that bizarre organic structure, the centrepiece of a ship far more alien than anything he had seen or heard of The Doctor.

The familiar light of its scanner played over Amy's body, taking in the her figure in long, slow sweeps. If it was possible for Rory to be jealous of a giant eyeball ship, he would have been after the way it seemed to linger over her.

"This one has had contact with Prisoner Zero," intoned its booming monotone.

Amy screwed up her face. "Yeah. It hid in my house for twelve years. I suppose I _have_ had contact."

"Prisoner Zero has escaped."

"Oh!" trilled Amy sarcastically. "I think I've gathered that by now, thanks. And what about you lot? Did you forget to close its cage properly one day or something?"

"A crack in the skin of the universe formed inside the specialized cell confining the convict. Prisoner Zero escaped onto your planet through the rupture."

"So you lot came to capture or kill it," snapped Amy. "I get that part. What about that bloke you just disintegrated? What did he do to deserve that? He threw a rock for crying out loud! Did he really do that much damage? He was scared, not some terrorist."

The Atraxi descended another meter, and an atmospheric exhaust vent on its underside sent a gust jetting across the road, streaming Amy's hair out behind her in wispy tendrils. "Assault of an Atraxi or Atraxi property is not a capital offence. The human has been detained for sentencing on our home world. To date, thirty-nine Terrans have been so confined. However, given the circumstances of the offence, it is likely they will be released upon arrival."

"Then why not release them now?" Amy demanded.

Seconds passed while the Atraxi regarded her.

"Our race has been accused of many things at many times, callosity foremost among them. The Collective executes justice in the most efficient way possible. However, even we would consider it a cruel sort of kindness to release our captives to freedom only to incinerate them with their planet twenty-six minutes later.

Amy stood there, stunned into silence. Rory felt little better. He had heard rumours of an incident involving the Royal Hope Hospital in London and a race of alien mercenaries called... what was it now? The Judoon.

The Judoon had nearly let the entire hospital asphyxiate simply because their laws didn't stipulate that they had to save them. Here, the Atraxi, despite all their cold efficiency, were using their regulations to spare a few people from annihilation when they need do no such thing. In fact, from the way The Doctor talked, it would probably be in their favour to leave no witnesses behind to this atrocity. It made him rethink his opinion of the Atraxi, even if only a little.

"As the Earth is not under official Atraxi jurisdiction, the collective issues this counteroffer."

She planted her hands on her hips and stuck out her lower lip. "I'm listening."

"There is one on your world already searching out the fugitive. Aide this one in recapturing our prisoner and the detainees shall be paroled."

Amy smiled the utterly false smile of the condemned. "I absolutely grantee it. We'll help recapture Prisoner Zero and ring you up to come get it." She conveniently left out that they were already working with the only other people who were trying to recapture their quarry. Given the circumstances, it might be for the best. "We're human beings, after all. We do everything loud, so we're not about to die quietly. Just wait and see!"

Hardly waiting for so much as a by your leave, Amy marched back to the car and slammed the door behind her. Rory twisted the ignition and the engine roared to life. A moment later, they swerved to avoid abandoned cars before they could proceed. The Atraxi ship gave their vehicle a brief scan before signalling them to be on their way. Rory did not argue. He slid his foot off the brake and drove off.

The Atraxi went back to sifting through the populace. Fortunately, the sight of an officer of the law telling off the alien craft restored a modicum of order to the frightened masses. It wasn't until they were half a kilometre down to the road, well outside the cordon of Atraxi ships, that Rory broke the cool silence. "That was quite a speech you gave them, Amy. They believed every syllable of it. I even caught myself starting to believe it once or twice."

She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "When we get to the hospital, The Doctor will tell us what to do next." She hesitated, shifting in her seat. "He knows what to do, Rory. I'm sure of it."

Rory wished he could share her confidence.

oOo

Fortunately for The Doctor, he chose an entirely different route to traverse, and their choice of transportation, not to mention its frenetic driver, assured them quick passage and a wide berth from passing motorists. The cherry red fire truck burned along the road, gray smoke roiling from its twin exhaust pipes. Ladders and hoses creaked and groaned at every bump or turn, but The Doctor loved the smooth feel of the controls, the power of the engine. It reminded him of the TARDIS a few hundred years ago, right after he stole it. He'd had to replace almost every thermocouple and dial since those days, but the changes only served to make the ship more his.

Rose sat and texted beside him, frowning each time her phone beeped its low battery alarm. The silence gave him time to think, quite possibly the last thing he wanted right now, but in between bouts of fawning over their ride, thoughts would come. He fought them back into the recesses of his mind, something he had become awfully good at over the years. It came almost as second nature now, which saved his sanity more than once.

Driving again rekindled nostalgic recollections of his old car, Bessie. Like the fire truck, it did not require his doing the work of six people to maintain control. A decided bonus. After all its hi-tech, off world upgrades, the old girl had more pick-up than this vehicle, but something about its size, handling, and pure intimidation factor made The Doctor think about adding a fire engine to his Christmas list.

"Darn it," complained Rose, shaking her head in disdain. "That's the last of it. My phone just went dead."

"If I had my screwdriver I probably could have rigged it to last a bit longer. It should be fine though so long as Amy's kept on top of things."

Rose shrugged and stuck her cell into the pocket of her jeans.

He divided his attention between Rose and the road, losing himself to anything else. That's why he jumped when Rory's phone started ringing "I Am The Chancer", its vibrator buzzing in his pocket.

The Doctor fished the cell out of his trousers, and saw Amy's name displayed in elaborate text, a beating heart graphic pulsing proudly above it. He smirked and pressed the accept button. "Hello Officer Pond. Am I breaking any traffic ordinances this fine day?"

"_Hey! None of your lip, Doctor. We haven't the time._"

"No dispute here," he replied honestly. "What have you got for me?"

"_Rory and I are running a bit behind schedule,_" Amy told him. "_We just got through an Atraxi checkpoint. Incidentally, they seem to think you're Earth's front line._"

The Doctor chewed her words over. "Very nice. I have no idea who I am yet, but I believe you just summed me up. Did they give you any trouble?"

"_Nothing we couldn't handle,_" she said, and let the subject drop. "_We're a few minutes away from the hospital now_."

"Good. We'll be there a tic behind you, but don't wait up for us. We may hit a roadblock too for all I know."

"_How are you planning to get here?_"

"Don't worry. We've acquired a local ground vehicle." He smirked and slapped a lever above his head, blaring the siren for anyone who cared to listen. A glance showed him Rose who was hanging her head out the window, whooping it up for all she was worth.

"_Really? Where'd you learn to drive?_"

"An old friend of mine taught me. You might have heard of him." The Doctor paused for effect and then added, "Henry Ford."

Amy's lack of response nearly deafened him.

"That explains some of the swerving," commented Rose.

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Well," she continued, "at least it's a smoother ride than the TARDIS."

"_Hey Doctor!_" shouted Amy, a short nasal breath over driving the microphone. "_Clock's still running here. Hurry it up, all right?_"

"What do you mean 'hurry up?'" he replied in an affronted tone. "It takes time to do this sort of thing when I don't have a space ship. I'm not Superman, am I?"

He caught Rose looking at him like she thought him exactly that.

"Look," The Doctor went on. "Just be careful. Prisoner Zero may be headed your way to check on its stock.

"_And how do we go about capturing Prisoner Zero even if we find it?_"

The Doctor grinned. "We'll burn that bridge when we come to it. Keep in touch." He tapped the end key.

Rose turned to observe him again. The air conditioner had nearly dried them by then, leaving both man and girl sticky and uncomfortable. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then began in a hesitating voice. "W-what do you mean you have no idea who you are? You said something like that before."

"I'm still settling," he explained, not sure how much elaboration he dared. "Like you said, I was dying. Regeneration is a little way Time Lords have of cheating death, but it still strips us bare to the soul. It's not just my body that changed. I'm literally a new man."

Yet Rose bound the two regenerations in a way that had never occurred before, a way he barely understood himself. Yes, most had washed away into the tides history, but there were unmistakable ties binding him to his past. All of them centred around the woman at his side. He'd often teased his prior companions of being sartorial ducklings, but perhaps the same could be said of him. It gave him food for thought anyway.

The blonde girl digested that. "But you remember the man you were." Not a question; a statement of curious certainty.

"I do."

"And how many bodies have you had?" He could hear the desire to understand in her voice, and could not resist satisfying it.

"I've regenerated ten times, which makes this my eleventh. I'm nearly nine hundred and seven, believe it or not."

Rose's sassy smile did not escape him. "You're well preserved for your age, aren't you?"

His expression mirrored her. "Yes I am, Rose Tyler. Yes I am."

oOo

Amy sat in the passenger's seat, watching the landscape rush past her window and vanish behind the car. It made her realize how an hourglass must feel with the sand slowly draining out. An hour, now all but spent, and she was still unprepared for what they might face when they reached the hospital.

Moment by moment, the stigmata of decay became more evident to her. They passed by an outdoor mall, a spot where Amy once frittered away many an afternoon. Verandas, empty or littered with rubbish, attested to the recent flight of citizens. Another moment showed her gardens untended and choked with weeds and walls splotched with pale lichen. It amazed her how she had stopped noticing the run-down conditions surrounding her all these years. Perhaps something about The Doctor's return allowed her to see her town with fresh eyes, a dirty, cramped place, and the rubbish English municipality it really was.

The mall stretched onward and she could see split sidewalks, broken statues cock-eyed on their pedestals, and dry fountains. At first she thought one of them was playing, but what she mistook for spray was dust swirling in the barren cup. There was a thing about dusty fountains that always depressed her. The sight of a fountain talking and sparkling in the sun infused an air of beauty into its surroundings. Silent ones told a story of their own. Right there and right then, they spoke volumes to her.

As it stood, her life was a graveyard of dreams. If The Doctor would have her, and they survived the balance of the hour, she would fly away in his box that very night. Yet even that would not be victory, only a lesser defeat.

Suddenly she wanted to be five again, crying in her mother's arms. She wanted to be seven again and demand The Doctor take her with him in his damaged, smoking ship. She found that she was wishing herself back in her home, twelve years ago before any of this had started, knowing everything she knew now. But she couldn't even go back to this morning and refuse to silence the alarm as it chimed softly beside her bed. All she could do was move forward, seeing her new found career of audacity to its most plausible conclusion.

Cresting a hill, the hospital, a large, handsome, modern brick building, came into full view for the first time. She watched it grow steadily larger through gaps in the spruce trees, its laurel hedge surrounding most of the property. A great basin stood in front of its horseshoe-shaped main entrance, overflowing with flowering vines like a natural spring. Unlike much of the town, the landscaping here was immaculate. Carefully preened blades of grass interlaced with mulch and multicolour blooms to form beautiful patterns and structured walks.

The hospital's paint, like most the surrounding area, sorely needed a touch up to cover the dinginess of age. However, the rest of the structure appeared good as new. Towering above the building, an enormous four faced clock ticked off the diminishing minutes, its surrounding surfaces plated in a coppery patina, capped by a pinnacle of bronze shingles.

An addled crowd milled beside the large doorway, murmuring to themselves like conspiratorial lemurs. The car's arrival seemed to startle them, and Amy could not help wondering why. The thought left her, however, when Rory hit the brakes, stopping them neatly in front of the facility's large double doors.

He and Amy turned to each other, and Rory spoke first. "Amy. I think I already know how you'll answer, but it won't stop me from saying this. If Prisoner Zero really is in there, it could get dangerous. You can stay here if you want. You don't have to prove yourself to The Doctor, and you certainly don't have to prove _anything_ to me."

Amy put her hand on his, her pencilled, ginger brows crinkling in amusement. "I can't do that. I'm not trying to prove anything to The Doctor or you. I need to prove to myself that I'm good enough to… to do this, Doctor or not. I need to know I'm not the little girl I was when he first fell out of the sky. Besides, with twelve minutes left, I'm not gonna sit on my bum watching telly, waiting for the planet to boil."

It had been the answer Rory expected. Amy might be frightened, but she would be more ashamed to run. He nodded and they flung open the car doors, jumping out onto the tarmac, rushing toward the hospital's oaken doors. "I just hope we pull this off," commented Rory, unclasping his name badge from the bottom of his jacket.

"Don't worry so much," Amy chided. "We'll go in, flash your badge at the desk to get past security, and have the coma ward emptied before anyone even notices what we're doing. Easy."

The statement was hopelessly inaccurate.


	7. Chapter 6

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and alerted for Tangent! It really makes all this writing worth it!

Chapter 6

Dr. Ramsden called to her patient, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder while she attempted to ascertain the strange alteration in his condition. To the naked eye, he appeared to be in the midst of a grand mal seizure, but every monitor attached to him gave the lie to that assessment. His heart rate and respiration were elevated to say the least, and the electroencephalogram connected to the arranged electrodes on his scalp bespoke a level of excited agitation no man in a coma had any grounds to emanate.

"Barney?" she appealed, baffled by his mysterious paroxysm. She shook him gently, but received no response, no mark of recognition to indicate he discerned her presence. "Barney Dewinter. Can you hear me?"

He did not answer, not that she expected he would. Dr. Ramsden watched his face, and then looked once again to the medical readouts. They simply did not make sense. Part of her wished she had listened more closely to Nurse Williams' accounts on the unusual happenings in this ward. He had inspected these patients far oftener than herself and might have an explanation to tender. Then she remembered the drivel he spun her about their unconscious guests walking abroad and put the whole idea of consulting him out of her mind.

Ramsden peered at the ceiling when she heard a soft thudding up by the ventilation ducts. Nothing caught her eye, however, and she turned her attention back where it belonged. She needed to alert others to the change in the man's condition. Feeling in her vest for the hospital cell phone her superiors issued her, she brought it out, opening the flip with a careless flick of her thumb.

While scrolling through her contacts, a prickly feeling nipped at the nape of her neck. She shuddered, recalling tales her aunty used to tell her of the feeling you got when someone walked over your grave. Ramsden despised such superstition now, but she could not shake the sensation for all her rational logic.

The air conditioner must have kicked on, because a hissing murmur caught her notice, sounding like many voices calling to her from a long way off. Dr. Ramsden dialled the proper number. The line twittered once, twice, a third time, but no answer.

"I haven't got all day, Dr. Leon," she griped under her breath. "Come on. Pick up."

A single drop of viscous fluid dripped down from above. Ramsden saw it splash on Mr. Dewinter's face and trickle along the line of his right cheek. Her eyes riveted upon it for a pair of heartbeats. Spinning, she looked up just in time to see a mouth, too full of teeth, flying at her! Then-

oOo

The hospital doors swung out and open, admitting Amy and Rory into a scene of marginally controlled chaos. The main desk was surrounded by security and hospital staff, all of them talking louder than the next in order to be heard over the pandemonium. A dark-skinned man in a gray trench coat seemed to be in charge, and toward him they bent their steps.

Motioning for Amy to stay put, Rory skipped up a hand full of steps to a raised hardwood platform where the receptionist desk sat. He immediately fell into what looked like a heated conversation with the secretary and a member of security. After receiving a shake of the head in response to his mumbled inquiries, Rory held out his badge for their inspection, and more contention followed.

While her boyfriend attempted to talk his way around security Amy put in the time emailing The Doctor's virus to a few more lucky recipients. She observed the room around her; something was definitely wrong here other than fears over why the sun had eclipsed. Regrettably, no organized effort had been assembled to sort it out, so she could get no clue as to what that disruption might be.

"Something's happened upstairs," called Rory as he trotted back to her. "We can't get through."

Amy closed her phone, throwing up her hands in frustration. "What about your clearance?"

"Dr. Ramsden moved quicker than I thought. It's been revoked 'upon further inquiry' if you can imagine that. I don't know what we're going to do. Whatever happened, they're quarantining the whole building."

"Yes, but _what_ happened?"

"Umm..." Rory spun around to glimpse the crowd again. "I don't know. No one knows."

Amy put her hand to her head and scrunched up some hair as she thought. She held up her cell and dialled The Doctor.

"Who are you phoning?"

She shushed him, listening for the Doctor's voice.

"_What is it, Amy?_"

"Doctor? We're at the hospital but we can't get through. Any suggestions?"

If she had been paying attention to Rory, she might have caught the misery and annoyance which flashed briefly onto his face. However, Amy's notice centred on The Doctor's next words.

The Doctor cleared his throat in theatrical exaggeration. _"Amy. Have you changed your clothes recently?"_

"No. Why?"

_"Just look in the mirror."_

The phone clicked as he ended the call. She stared at the screen, not comprehending, but did as he instructed. A mirror hung on the wall not far away. Her eyes lit upon her reflection and she beamed.

"Aha! My uniform."

"What?"

Ignoring him, Amy tossed Rory her phone and pulled back her hair, combing it with the fingers of one hand as she got out a hair band with the other.

oOo

It took less than thirty-seven seconds for "Officer Pond" to bypass the congestion in the lobby. They rounded a corner of a hallway, the pale blue, tile walls casting a strange pall across her vision. Reflections and shadows merged as Amy flitted down the passage, Rory trailing a meter or so behind.

"I have every right to be here," she heard Rory muttering to himself, rehearsing the speech he planned to recite after he and Amy had been caught. But it quickly became apparent that such things were an outside possibility. The hospital was so very empty, giving the redhead a creepy impression that they were the only ones alive in the entire building.

Papers lay scattered on the floor wherever they happened to land. Pushcarts, upright or otherwise, were strewn this way and that all over the floor. All signs pointed to a flurry of activity and a departure of unprecedented haste. The stark loneliness of it all staggered Amy in her steps, allowing Rory to catch up to her.

"It looks like a tornado came through here," he said. She did not contradict him.

They continued at a quick pace, veering around clutter or kicking it out of their way. The uncanny stillness of their surroundings gave greater urgency to the task at hand. Amy would hate to imagine an entire world so barren of life.

They picked up their pace again. Ahead, the corridor ended in a T-junction. A sign at the intersection read "Coma Ward" with an arrow pointing to the left. They reached the junction at a run, and to Amy's surprise, nearly barrelled into a woman and her two young children coming the other way.

Amy dug in her heels. In her state of mind, the sight nearly made her jump out of her skin. In contrast, the mother and her girls seemed unnaturally calm. The girls, clad in matching blue dresses, clung to their mother's hands, presumably to keep from being separated. They halted when they caught sight of Amy and Rory. All three turned to face the pair. Amy could not believe they hadn't been evacuated when the other departments fled.

"Oh, officer," said the woman. "Thank goodness you are here."

Amy approached her, concern written on every feature. Following, Rory had an odd expression on his face that she caught out of the corner of her eye. She did not understand it, so she ignored it.

"What happened?"

"There was a man," began the woman. "A man with the most vicious dog. Dr. Ramsden wasn't moving. I think she's dead, and the nurses on duty! How did it even get in here?"

Rory pawed at her shoulder. "Amy?"

She waved him off. "Don't worry, ma'am, I'll get to the bottom of this. Let me just call one of my contact men." She pulled out her phone and dialled The Doctor again.

"Amy. This is important."

"Shush," she hissed. Then, "Doctor?"

The line clicked. _"Are you in?"_ He sounded anxious now. Even he knew they were cutting it close.

"Yeah, but so is Prisoner Zero."

_"Fine. It was a good play, but you need to get out of there."_

The mother kept talking and talking as though she might go mad if she stopped distracting her rescuers. "He kept shouting and spitting at us. His eyes looked like they were on fire. And the size of that dog. It was horrible."

Rory leaned over and whispered in the redhead's ear. "Amy this is Malinda Joist, one of my _patients_."

Patients? Why did Rory care so much if she knew this was one of his patients? _Or did he mean... oh. Oh no_.

"_What's going on Amy?_" questioned The Doctor.

Amy peered at the woman again, and to her horror found that, though she was still talking, her mouth had gone still. The right hand child had taken up the tirade. "I swear it was rabid. They just went crazy, attacking everyone."

Rory took Amy's hand and started backing away. She felt too sandbagged to fight him.

"Did you see where he's gone?" insisted the child in her mother's accents. "The only reason we survived is we hid in the ladies." She halted and the mother laughed, taking over where the daughter left off. "Oh. I'm getting it wrong again, aren't I? I thought children would help play on your sympathies, but… so many mouths."

To emphasize her point, all three mouths opened wide, revealing serpentine tongues and razor sharp, needle teeth. Rory jolted in surprise. Amy's blood went cold at the sight.

The phone broke in again. "_Amy. What's happening?_"

Rory ducked in front of Amy, putting himself between her and Prisoner Zero. "You'll have to get past me if you want to hurt her!"

Prisoner Zero only laughed, all humanity bleeding from its voice. "Would you like to place odds on how many _tenths_ of a second you would last?" it said, full of condescension.

"_Amy!_" shouted The Doctor. "_Run!_"

They whirled around and fled.

oOo

Every peek behind showed Rory a vision of barbed teeth looming closer by the second. The girls' dresses and hair billowed behind them like the genuine article, but those inhuman eyes and horrible mouths belied any suggestion of normality.

Rory could not believe what was happening. When he got up this morning, the last thing he thought he would be doing was breaking into the hospital just to be chased down by an alien convict. He set out that day to solve a mystery of coma patients wandering where they did not belong. Now he wondered if he'd live to tell the tale. It didn't matter though. So long as Amy was safe, he'd brave whatever Prisoner Zero had to throw at them.

Turning the corner, they ducked behind a cleaner's cart, crouching to hide while they caught their breath. Sweat beaded on his brow, drops pooling into one another and cascading down his face in tiny rivulets. After a moment, Rory took a calming breath and poked his head over the disinfectant, but quickly pulled back. Impatient at his silence, Amy leaned over and whispered. "Is it safe?"

"Safe?" Rory snorted. "Sure it's safe! We're the ones about to be eaten."

Amy rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant. Is the coast clear?"

Her answer came, not in words, but an animalistic snarl as one of Prisoner Zero's heads rose into view. Amy gasped as her eyes locked with the child's dilated pupils. She staggered into a standing position, pulling Rory after her and they ran with all the strength remaining to them.

Prisoner Zero stood there, glowering at its escaping victims, but this time did not give chase. The children held firmly in a mother's grip began shimmering, bodies awash in amber light. Their silhouettes blurred, then smudged, and finally receded into the parent body like water draining through a straw.

The fugitive flung out its arms and a river of living sand gushed forth. Impossibly fast, it flooded the hall, lacing along the hall, splashing up the walls where it broke against them. The tide washed around Rory's ankles and he felt himself come to a sudden and wrenching stop. Off balance, he went down, Amy collapsing beside him with a cry.

Rory saw finger-like talons forming out of the watery mist, tearing at his scrubs, and shredding Amy's black stockings to ribbons. Slowly but inexorably, the two were dragged to the malevolent alien, its toothy mouth grinning in triumph. Rory dug in his nails, but could not resist the animated current.

As she passed it, Amy scrabbled hold of the cleaner's cart, but far from an effective anchor it merely dragged along after her. However, she continued to claw her way along it, climbing higher until she grasped its upper tray. Then Rory realized that her clutching movements weren't just the useless flailing of a desperate girl trying to get away. Amy wrapped her bone white knuckles around a bottle of cleaning solvent. She collapsed to the floor, holding her prize, twisted the bottle's spigot as she wormed herself around and splashed its contents full in the face of Prisoner Zero.

The sucking at their legs immediately ceased. All about them the amber dust of Prisoner Zero's disjointed form contracted into scattered disarray, surging and pulsing as it screamed in incoherent rage. It staggered, clothing and flesh melting like wax in a fire. Amy and Rory got to their feet, amazed at the chemical's effect.

"What was in that bottle?" exclaimed Rory.

"I don't know," Amy admitted. "I took the first thing I laid my hand on and hoped for the best." She held up the bottle, shrugging.

"Good old bleach," laughed Rory. "Mum was right. It _is_ good for everything."

But they dared not linger. Down the hall they went, not looking behind them, hoping against hope that the creature would be debilitated long enough to make their getaway.

In its wrath, Prisoner Zero struck the cart with one half-formed limb, sending it flying at the retreating couple. It hit Amy dead on, knocking her head over heels. When Rory felt her stumble, he kept his grip on the girl, pulling her tighter into his embrace. The trolley knocked his feet out from under him, but Rory twisted around so that when he struck the floor, his back took the impact. Amy landed on top of him, driving the wind from his lungs. He must have blacked out a moment because his next clear memory was of Amy yelling at him, trying to yank him to his feet.

They managed to circle back around, dodging into a restricted clinical laboratory. Here he found specimens left culturing and labelled tissue and fluid samples ready for testing, but not a single technician on the job. Together with Amy, he passed through a series of half lit labs, linked to one another by a range of electronically keyed doorways. Here Rory's pass card still proved invaluable, as a swipe at the reader opened the path forward. Dr. Ramsden might have spread news of his suspension through the verbal ranks, but thank goodness for sluggish middle management that it had not yet been entered into the campus computers.

When they emerged back into the hallway and found it deserted, Rory breathed a sigh of relief. According to the signs, they had come out near the coma ward, and Rory hesitated as to which direction to go. He looked to Amy for her opinion.

"We can still pull this off. We need to get to the coma ward."

"From which there is no place else to go. I trust you thought about that part."

She took his arm and they sprinted in the indicated direction. Amy reached an intrepid hand on the dividing door when an inhuman bellow resounded in the corridor nearby. Rory rounded, and caught the lead edge of a shadow stretch across the connecting passage.

Prisoner Zero was coming after them. Coming for blood.

oOo

The doors slammed behind them, but wood and hinges presented little defence against a shape shifter of Prisoner Zero's talents. Worse still, Amy found no lock to fasten it with, and no means to secure it. The two of them alone could hardly bar the way. They needed time to make plans!

Inspiration came when Rory kicked open a metal cabinet, retrieving a push broom from inside. Amy nodded her approval and snatched a mop from a cleaner's bucket close at hand. The two of them raced back to the door, jamming the poles of their impromptu crossbars diagonally through the door's looping handles.

At that instant, the doors bucked as a tremendous force on the opposite side tried to batter them down. Amy jumped in alarm, and Rory nearly fell backwards when he tripped over a piece of monitoring equipment. They withdrew in apprehension, the door shuddering at each blow of Prisoner Zero's fist.

Amy's eyes darted this way and that, searching for something, anything to bolster their barricade against Prisoner Zero's ingress. However, nothing presented itself to her but the patients and their beds, and she doubted they could detach those from the wall easily.

Her phone rang, and Rory's number appeared on the caller id. She opened it, her nerves jumping every time the door slammed. "Doctor?"

"_Amy, talk to me!_"

"We're in. We're in the coma ward." Her voice trembled like a leaf, and she hated herself for it. _So much for proving myself_, Amy thought wearily. "But it's here too. Prisoner Zero is getting in!"

The next thing The Doctor said might well have been the most random question she ever heard. "_Which window are you?_"

What remained of her confident mask slipped. "What, sorry?"

"_Where is the coma ward? Hurry, Pond._"

"We're on the upper floor. I don't know!"

Rory broke in. "The coma ward is second floor, left side of the building, in the front."

"We're in front of the fourth window from the end," added Amy.

"_Right. Now listen carefully, because this is very important. I want you to get Prisoner Zero mad_."

The poles barring their door splintered. Amy swallowed hard. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

She jumped as the mop and broom snapped like kindling, accidentally depressing the end key in the process. The door swung on its hinges, revealing the mutilated form of the comatose mother, one side of her face still melted, most of her clothing washed out to a bone white pallor. The moment Prisoner Zero caught sight of its quarry, it snarled hatefully, deformed lips curled and toothy as ever.

Though only a lone figure now, the children having vanished, Prisoner Zero lost none of its spiteful potency. Its eyes burned against them, boring into Amy innermost being. And then the hatred turned to glee, triumph because it knew they had no further ground to retreat through.

Prisoner Zero almost purred its satisfaction. "Oh, dear. Little Amelia Pond." Its face took on a motherly glow, fractured by its owner's mad abandon. "I watched you grow up, you know. Twelve long years and you never once realised I was there. Pathetic humans. You are all alike in the end." Stepping across the threshold, the alien stalked resolutely toward her, and Amy did her best to put more distance between them. Prisoner Zero only laughed at this. "Precious little Amelia, waiting for her magic Doctor to whisk her away to the stars."

Amy felt a pressure building in her head. Tears welling behind her lids threatened to overflow. Prisoner Zero knew exactly how to press her buttons and it showed. She clenched her fists, wrapping her fingers around her uniform.

"But you know, Amelia? He was late last time, and we both know he's not coming now. You are mine. Another world falls today."

"Stop it!" shouted Rory, and for an instant his face darkened to an intensity matching that of the alien. "Leave Amy alone!"

Prisoner Zero's only response was to hiss, bearing its fangs at him. It strode towards the pair, glowering. Amy could see its face gradually repairing itself as the creature regained full control of its damaged tissue. They headed toward the window as it boxed them in.

Rory had been right. There was nowhere left to go. Amy's bullheadedness had killed them both as surely as the Atraxi weapons could. Had Prisoner Zero been right? Was Amy nothing more than a common, silly human? She refused to believe it.

_The Doctor saw something in me. I have to believe it's still there. Did I really grow up that much?_

Perhaps too much. Over the years of enduring teasing of her fellows, much of Amy's spirit of adventure had gone cold. She, instead of a maverick, became more of a free spirit; the subtle difference being that she had spent so much time dreaming of thrilling escapades she nearly forgot how to actually play the part.

But she was Amelia Jessica Pond, the same person who fed The Doctor fish fingers and custard while they discussed tactics for how to seal the crack in her wall, the same crack Prisoner Zero used to invade her world. There had to be something she and Rory could do to defeat this creature!

Dimly, she became aware of a siren sounding in the distance. Probably looting, a result of panic over the sun's condition, had resulted in a fire somewhere. Prisoner Zero loomed large in front of her.

Then, as she watched, it raised its hand. Its fingers blunted, then smeared and ran together. The metamorphosing limb grew wider, slimmer, and sharper, taking on a decided metallic sheen. She knew it was an axe before it even finished forming. Amy closed her eyes, conceding silent defeat. It was over; they lost.

Her mobile beeped, not a phone call, but a text message. Some detached part of her seized a faint strand of hope and looked at her mobile. On the screen she read: "One new text message. Accept?"

Eyes widening, Amy pressed the "okay" button without a moment's hesitation and scanned The Doctor's message.

It read, "_I see you. Might want to duck_."

The siren had gotten louder, and now she knew what it was. Bursting with relief, she clutched Rory's collar, dragging him to the floor. The glass overhead exploded inward, peppering all three of them. A huge metal ladder flew through the window, smashing directly into Prisoner Zero's chest.

The impact sent the creature flying, in all appearance a broken ragdoll discarded by a fickle child. It crashed into the far wall, leaving a gouge in the plaster, and crumpled onto the floor, stunned.

oOo

Nestled high in Earth's volatile ionosphere, the Atraxi's capital ship sat motionless save for the unending spin of its crystalline drive section. Receiving a live feed from its constituent members, the capital ship served as a nexus of information, monitoring all human broadcasts and tapping into its world network via wireless transmissions. But even with all those giga-quads of raw data and extrapolated figures, they were no closer to finding Prisoner Zero than if light-years of space still separated it from their probing eyes. For all their technology, a planet still proved a vast jungle for a single life form to lose itself, especially if that life form did not wish to be found.

Universe weary and sensing the weight of galaxies upon its spindly shoulders, the Atraxi sat inside its eye-like, atmospheric pod. Soundlessly, it wondered why duty prescribed that they must concentrate their resources here and now when there was so much more rewarding use of Atraxi might than the killing of innocents, squelching of faceless enemies, and destruction of worlds. That archfiend Prisoner Zero had forced them into this showdown, knowing full well that its recapture would supersede. The ruin of one planet was nothing in comparison to the horror Prisoner Zero would commit if allowed to remain free. And so the countdown continued.

Five minutes left. Four fifty-nine. Four fifty-eight. Four fifty-seven...

Not much time left for The Doctor.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Brakes squealed on the macadam, the bright red truck leaving a trail of black rubber behind it. The Doctor put his whole weight on the pedal. They barely felt a bump when the ladder shattered the coma ward window, and shortly after, the truck's air brakes brought them to a full and wrenching stop.

The Doctor and Rose piled out of the fire engine, not wasting a moment of the time so precious. They left the doors ajar, sprinting for the back of the truck, The Doctor stepped onto the back bumper, hauling his aching body atop the vehicle. He gave one tense glance at the shattered window before reaching down to give his blonde partner a boost.

When they were both aboard, he made for the extended ladder, going down on all fours to negotiate the narrow metal bars. The Doctor heard Rose's soft footfalls pinging behind him. Wind whistled through his hair, blowing into the holes ripped in his shirt. A few degrees cooler and it might have chilled him.

It amazed him that he could think about such things. Why did the most trivial of matters always intrude when weightier issues demanded his undivided attention? Why, when saving his friends, the recapture of Prisoner Zero, and preserving history as he knew it depended on a hair's trigger, could he not get his mind off those last moments he stood beside Rose on the frigid shores of Dårlig Ulv-Stranden before committing her to the care of his meta-crisis duplicate?

The Doctor shook these images from his mind as the second floor drew closer. He could deal with his mixed emotions after saving the world. If, of course, he accomplished that feat yet again.

At the ladder's end, he came to the coma ward, a room painted wintergreen of all shades, overrun with beds, retractable privacy curtains, and monitoring equipment of all types. He found Amy and Rory just picking themselves up off the floor.

The Doctor hopped down in their midst, genuine gratitude brightening his countenance as he gave them both a quick hug. "Right. Hullo! Am I late?" He placed a hand on the shoulder of each and looked them over, seeing nothing seriously amiss. Rory looked at The Doctor like he was an imp out of Hades. Amy only looked stunned.

Rose nearly stepped on him in her attempt to get inside. He tried not to notice. On the wall, The Doctor spotted an old LED digital clock, displaying eleven forty-eight in bright crimson letters. "Nope. Three minutes left. Plenty of time, yeah?"

Amy's lip curled, her eyes watering as she got a sniff of her comrades. "Yuck. What have you two been swimming in?"

"Are you honestly sure you want me to answer that?" remarked The Doctor.

"Probably not," she admitted.

"Exactly my feeling on the whole thing. Now. Down to business. Have you been texting?"

She nodded. "Sixty people. Is that enough?"

"Depends on the sixty. We should know pretty soon."

"How?"

Across the room, he saw a figure struggling to its feet, a short-haired, middle-aged woman in a pearl necklace, navy blue coat and imperial floral print dress. Holding her hands, two expressionless young children pushed themselves upright on unsteady hands and legs, supporting their "mother" as she upended itself. The children remained silent in a distinctly unchildlike manner, head movement's perfectly mirroring those of the older woman as she shook it to pull herself together. Vertebrae in her neck snapped back into place with a grotesque cracking, and crushed bones in her chest straightened themselves as she breathed. For all the horrors he had seen over his long life, the sight of this made him a triffle ill.

"Oh, so sorry to intrude," The Doctor chimed, indicating with a hand for the others to get behind him and stay there.

He studied the alien convict with inscrutable eyes. Despite how he felt, The Doctor managed a certain swagger as he approached the alien. A superior smile twisted his lip and they exchanged meaningful looks of antagonism.

"Ah, Prisoner Zero. So very good to see you again. Well, to say 'very' is, perhaps, putting it a bit piquant. How about 'good to see you'? Then again by 'good' I imply a certain lack of loathing, so under the circumstances I might better connote -" He sighed and gave up the cause, well aware the motherly figure could sick her little jackals on them at a moment's notice.

Prisoner Zero gave him one of those trademark dirty looks he seemed to cultivate lately. "Doctor. Alive, I see."

"I'm going to stop you either way," he promised. "Make things easier on all of us. Take the disguise off. The Atraxi will find you in a heartbeat and you're no worse off than before." He paused thoughtfully, knowing it would never be so simple. "Nobody dies."

"The Atraxi will kill me this time."

"You've killed billions. It's on your own head. That's not my problem."

"So you say, but your philosophy means nothing to me." A haughty sneer accentuated Prisoner Zero's maniacal hatred. "If I am to die, let there be fire."

Rose stepped forward, cheeks pink from indignation. "Not so fast, you!" she yelled, her cockney accent thickening in her excitement. "You barge your way in here like the Big Bad Wolf, but The Doctor is here now, so look out!"

Silence followed the girl's bold statement, a portent hanging around the room like a thick fog. Two words in particular frightened The Doctor speechless. He wasn't sure he could break the moment.

"Doctor?" Amy's voice, softer than he had ever heard it, reached his ears, drawing his notice. She sounded unsure, probably sensing his own turmoil. The melodic sound made him turn, and in that petite oval loveliness he saw a trace of the hurting child of yesteryear. No knowledge of the world shone from her depths, no experience of life or the universe to comfort her soul. What had Prisoner Zero done to her before he got there? He nodded just enough to reassure her and faced the alien, heat welling in his chest.

This was it, the eleventh hour. Either his ungainly plan came together now, perfectly and without fail, or space-time received one massive tremor as billions of years of established history rewrote itself in a heartbeat.

The Doctor gave one last appeal. "So you came to this world by opening a crack in space and time. Why not do it again? Just leave."

Prisoner Zero's face scrunched in bemusement. "What do you mean? _I_ did not open it."

The Doctor scoffed. "Why do I find myself not taking your word for it? The crack opened. Someone did it."

"The cracks in the universe? Come now; don't you know where they came from?" She hesitated, taking his measure, then recognition dawned.

The Doctor did not answer. Was there something he should know about them? He had never encountered such a phenomenon until Amelia showed it to him in her room. Unfortunately, his mind had been so muddled at the time he could barely distinguish the anomaly from that whole sort of general mishmash the universe threw at him nearly every day. His confusion must have shown, because Prisoner Zero chuckled.

"Silly little man. You don't do you?" she said sweetly. "You forget I passed through the crack and survived, which few life forms can do unprotected." Then her mouth closed and the children took it up in a mocking singsong. "The Doctor and the TARDIS, The Doctor and the TARDIS, looking for his lost love, tripping over his own feet."

The clock flicked. Eleven fifty.

Pursing his lips, The Doctor made no reply.

"The universe is cracked, Doctor. Perhaps I am doing it a favour by destroying you." The children's free hands lengthened into sickle claws. Prisoner Zero hissed and took a menacing step toward him.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you.

"And why not? You have no sonic device to save you this time."

In the pocket of his trousers, Rory's phone gave a sudden and urgent beep. The Doctor pulled it out, read the message on the device's screen, and grinned.

"Aha! And we have achieved saturation!" he called in triumph, and pressed the hash key. When the expected happened, The Doctor always felt just a touch amazed at his own genius. On the wall, the digital clock was now blinking all zeros. He pointed. "Look at them apples, why don't you?"

Everyone, including the alien fugitive, followed the line of his index finger. Prisoner Zero failed to impress.

"Yeah, I know," The Doctor continued. "It's just a clock on the wall, whatever. But it's not. Over the last hour, my friends have been transmitting a virus to the world containing a reset command. It's the word of the day other than, you know, 'ahh, my planet's going to burst into flames'. And do you know what that means? Do you know what's happening right now?" The Doctor pictured, in his mind's eye, what was happening all over the world. Wall Street, the Tokyo Stock Exchange, Times Square, the Cape Canaveral Space Centre, and digital devices everywhere, all displaying the same message. Somehow he knew the corners of Amy's mouth were twitching in stupefied glee. He allowed himself the smugness of cool satisfaction as he finished. "The word is zero. You know? Sometimes I still amaze myself."

Darkness gathered behind Prisoner Zero's inhuman eyes. The Doctor ignored it, pressing on. The fugitive had already had its chance to end things easily. And for everything else that might have changed in The Doctor's makeup, he was still a man of no second chances.

"Now if I was in a battleship in the sky, monitoring all Earth communications, I might take that as a hint, don't you think? And considering they have a whole fleet surrounding the planet, they should be able to track a simple old computer virus to its source, in..." he sucked in a breath, pretending to work out the figure. "Oh, under a minute?"

He held out Rory's mobile. "Did I hear you ask where the source might be? Why here, of course? Don't be _daft_."

oOo

Through the windows, a pure white light erupted into the ward like God had just reiterated his first command to the cosmos. Rose winced and gaped at the blinding glory. She saw Amy and Rory do likewise, backing away from the windows in fright. Just discernible on the other side of the radiance, Rose saw the visage of a humongous eye, darting well above the building, shining its scanner probe into the hospital in search of Prisoner Zero and The Doctor.

"Oh ho!" cheered The Doctor. "Look who finally finished his cup of tea and decided to join us. It's your jailer!"

Amy ran to the window as if to confirm his words.

Prisoner Zero's face permitted an inkling of begrudging respect, but its confidence did not waver. "The Atraxi are quite limited. So long as I retain this form they cannot detect me. They have tracked a phone, Doctor, nothing more."

"Yeah. Well they aren't all that and a bag of salty roasted, I'll give you that. But they don't have to be smart. Today they have _me_.

"You've lost, Time Lord. Admit it."

Rose watched The Doctor, who only sniggered. "Maybe," he said in a vague, amused, and totally noncommittal tone, "but I haven't told you everything. This is the good bit. This is the mind-bogglingly clever bit. Stored in the memory of this phone is a cache of photos, all of them pictures of you."

Rory cleared his throat uncomfortably. "And, um, a few of Amy," he whispered. "I'll thank you not to scroll through those, if you don't mind."

"Okay," corrected The Doctor. "You and Amy, but the clincher is that I hold every form you've learned to take. All thanks to one of those scurrying little humans you despise so much. And I am uploading them to the Atraxi Collective," he pushed a few buttons on the cell phone and sighed. "Right now. And the final score is: no TARDIS, no screwdriver, nearly two minutes to spare." He threw his arms up in triumph. "Who 'da man?"

Rose actually winced again.

The Doctor paused for effect, but then just looked disappointed when he saw the expression shared by all. "Okay. That one's going on the list with 'Correct-a-mundo'. Fine."

_Why_, wondered Rose, _does Prisoner Zero still look so confident?_

"Then I shall take a new form."

"Don't kid me. You know you can't. That sort of things takes months. You can't just form a psychic link in a couple of minutes."

Prisoner Zero cocked its head to the side. "But I've had years."

oOo

Rory went rigid as Prisoner Zero's entire form oversaturated with deep amber light. Its eyes seemed to blaze, its silhouette distorting. What could Prisoner Zero mean? Rory had gotten pictures of it in the form of every coma patient in the building. How on Earth could it take another form?

Beside him, Amy seemed to blank out. One moment he could felt her burning, impertinent spirit radiating vigour, the next she was gone. Amy collapsed, a crushed puppet whose strings were cut, but Rory's instinct kicked in and he caught her around the waist before she could strike her head on the floor.

"Officer down!" cried Rose.

"She's not an offic..." Rory growled defensively before deciding that his efforts would be better placed in attending to Amy. He lowered her to the floor, his thoughts whirling. It took all his will to keep his head, and when he managed it, Rory remembered his training and knelt beside her, taking Amy's wrist in his hand to check for a pulse. Satisfied by its steady rhythm, he put his ear to her mouth and felt her breath tickle his cheek. Rory lifted one of the girl's lids and found her pupils in a severe state of contraction.

The Doctor had told him Prisoner Zero needed a link to a comatose mind in order to maintain its form. Did this mean Amy would never awaken? The notion frightened and enraged him.

_It's not fair. She didn't do anything to deserve this_.

The Doctor suddenly appeared by his side. "Amy! No! _Amy_!" he called, sounding genuinely troubled. He knelt, placing his fingertips along her temples, closing his eyes to block out distraction. "Amy fight it," The Doctor ordered. "Please hold on! Don't let Prisoner Zero take control. I can help you, but you have to try!"

She did not stir, and when the Time Lord opened his eyes again, his expression bespoke dissatisfaction as to the results of his endeavour. He tried again, but severed contact after only a few seconds. Outside, the light of the Atraxi's scanner beam moved more frantically over the building, and Rory feared it might be preparing to give up its search and signal the Earth's final destruction.

"I've got Amy," Rory insisted. "You take care of Prisoner Z..." he trailed off when he got a look at what inhabited the space where a mother and children once stood.

An unruly mane of dark brown hair topped a face that some might call handsome, but most would classify more as "singular". Eccentric, wild green eyes glimmered like gems in a setting of flesh. He looked both absurdly young and impossibly old, bearing one of the most eclectic grab bag of features he ever saw. The man stood there, stiff, arms clutched tightly behind his back. And his rumpled clothing was tattered and worn.

Rory slapped The Doctor on his shoulder and pointed. "You might want to have a peep at this."

He turned and took it in. The Doctor snorted. "That's rubbish. Who is that clown supposed to be?"

Rose gritted her teeth. "It's you."

"Me? Is that what I look like?"

"What? You didn't know?" questioned Rory.

The Doctor lifted his tie to double check the pattern. "It's been a busy day," he replied, shrugging. "That's quite a nose. Still, I've had worse. I guess I know what side my bread is buttoned on."

The Doctor's double merely stood there, neither moving nor speaking. Rory stared, and The Doctor hopped to his feet and peered at Prisoner Zero's new form. Slowly, he approached his doppelganger.

"Let her go, Zero!" demanded The Doctor. "No wait. Hold on. If you're linked to Amy why are you copying me?"

"I'm not," replied the convict, but not in The Doctor's voice. Instead a Scottish lilt filled the room. From behind the double's back stepped an image of seven-year-old Amelia, clad as The Doctor first found her on that fateful night, so long ago and yet so near. The face showed none of Amy's tenderness, proving that only Prisoner Zero lay in the creature's brain.

Rory instantly hated this monstrosity in his sweetheart's childhood body. He hated it as much as he loved the real Amy. If the planet burned this very moment, at least he might have the satisfaction of knowing this alien perished with it.

"Poor little Amelia Pond, a child inside after all these years. She still dreams of you, Doctor, every single night. I've seen it." The little girl's chest heaved as she laughed at him. "You destroyed Amelia's life in a matter of fifteen minutes. A record, I think, even for you. Thanks to your interference, she never grew up." The Doctor froze, tensing noticeably. A sneer curled Prisoner Zero's upper lip. "What a disappointment you've been."

"You're not exactly catching me at my best." Then The Doctor rejected the fugitive's taunt. "You _liar_. She's dreaming about me because I broke through your telepathic bond. She heard me."

He leapt past the others, and bent down to link with Amy again. The Doctor concentrated, strain wrinkling his face. "Amy. You heard me. Don't just dream about me. Listen."

Prisoner Zero growled in protest, both little Amy and her Doctor-ish appendage stomping toward him. The Doctor spared only a glance. "I need a few seconds. Do whatever it takes."

Not hesitating, Rose grabbed a stainless steel chair while Rory got hold of an IV stand and the two of them brandished their weapons to keep Prisoner Zero at bay. The Doctor leaned over Amy, positioning his fingers onto her face a second time, speaking rapidly. "Amelia Pond. Remember your house where Prisoner Zero has hidden for twelve years. This morning when you had me and Rose handcuffed to the radiator I told you about a hidden room. You found it. I told you not to go inside but you wouldn't listen. You entered the room and saw Prisoner Zero in its natural form, the form the Atraxi will recognize." The Doctor bent down and pressed his forehead directly against Amy's, the labour of his effort written in every line of his face. "I need you to dream about what you saw in that room."

Prisoner Zero redoubled its efforts. "No!" it shrieked. But the transformation had already begun. The fugitive's binary body disappeared beneath a familiar amber radiance. It spat and cursed, blighting them all for insolent beggars.

When the light faded, Rory gasped. Revulsion twisted his gut. Coming alongside him, Rose covered her mouth to conceal the disgust she felt, but it shone through despite her efforts. Horn-ridged and translucent, Prisoner Zero resembled nothing so much as a gigantic hagfish. Rory had dissected one during his medical training on the whim of a laboratory professor. The sight of this creature made him wonder if the hagfish god had come seeking retribution for his calloused deed.

It lifted its slimy, opalescent carcass from the floor, coiled like a cobra ready to strike. Hissing, jaws splayed, it lunged, uncoiling the spring of its body as it went desperately for The Doctor's throat. Then several things happened at once. The Doctor braced himself, Rose moved toward him, and finally a beam of light enveloped the alien, staggering its progress in mid air. It struggled to the last, but the luminance tightened around it until it could not move a muscle.

"Prisoner Zero has been located," boomed the Atraxi through the windows. A soft, greenish gold glow, the colour of fireflies, surrounded the creature. "Prisoner Zero has been restrained."

The alien fugitive roared in impotent fury. The Doctor, walked towards it, smiling despite his close shave with death. "Sorry, Prisoner Zero, seems you've made the same mistake that landed you in confinement last time. You chose the wrong person to imitate, and now you have accomplished the miraculous. A perfect imitation of yourself."

Its body frozen, Prisoner Zero lashed out telepathically. "_You will not always be right, Doctor,_" it promised, its tone full of spite. "_I know the end before the beginning, and I promise you will regret living long enough to prove me right_." It's focus shifted. "_And you, Rose Tyler, regardless of what you call me, in the end you are the Bad Wolf. But you think you are more of a goddess, don't you?_"

Rory could tell by their reactions that they heard it as well. None of them answered. The light dissipated, taking Prisoner Zero with it, and stillness reigned in the coma ward once more.

oOo

A rush of air and birdsong filtered through the shattered window. When he saw Amy stir, The Doctor gave himself leave to investigate. Rory and Rose looked after him as he went to examine the heavens, poking his head out the window. The sky was fine. The singular dearth of apologetic Atraxi just annoyed him.

He rejoined the others, his face taut. They weren't going to like what he had to do next.

"The sun," called Rory. "It's back to normal, right?"

"Yes."

"And what about Amy?"

The Doctor gave her a casual inspection. "She'll be right as rain in a few moments." He pulled Rory's phone out again, calling up the program he had used before to contact the Atraxi.

"That's good then, yeah?" Rory said. "This means it's over."

Amy's eyes fluttered open, drawing Rory's attention and saving The Doctor from having to answer for a few more moments.

"Are you okay?" he heard the nurse ask, fussing over his patient. "Are you with us?"

The redhead took hold of Rory's hand and squeezed it gently. "Yeah. What happened?"

Rose warmed perceptibly at the display of true affection she witnessed. The Doctor watched her until he caught her eye, then went back to dialling on the smart phone. Rory helped his girlfriend slowly upright herself.

"He did it. The Doctor did it all."

Not turning to face them, The Doctor denied the charge. "No I didn't. Or at least I haven't yet."

"What are you doing now?" asked Rose.

"Giving our friendly neighbourhood Atraxi another ring. I promised them a chat and I aim to deliver. Oh, and sorry Rory."

Rory's face scrunched in confusion. "Sorry for what?"

"Sorry because I thought I'd run up your phone bill enough already," The Doctor replied. Rory threw up his hands in exasperation just as the line connected, and The Doctor took the opportunity to cut off further discussion. "Oi! When did I say you could go? What did I tell you before? You lot, back here, _now_!" He ended the call and tossed Rory back his phone. "Alrighty then. Now I've done it."

He strode toward the door, not glancing back. Behind him he heard Rory beginning to bluster. "Did he just bring them back? Did he just save the world from aliens and bring them all back again?"

The Doctor heard the shoes of Amy and Rose clicking on the floor as they followed after him while Rory remained there squalling. Reaching the doors, he flung them open in a sloppy, reckless fashion, scattering a few splinters of wood as he trod on them. Paper waste flew into the air, fanned by his passage, but The Doctor ignored all this.

"Where are you going?" Amy called.

"To the roof. No, Hang on. I'm making a layover first."

The girls struggled to keep up, but he could hear Rory puffing and blowing. Apparently he'd finally decided to join them. The Doctor found a door labelled "Locker Room." A pile of scrubs and smocks lay in a heap outside, and it seemed a likely place to find what he was after. He barged in, confirming his theory. The room was filled with lockers. Clothes hung in open cubbyholes, and he spotted shoes and ties abandoned in their owners' haste to evacuate the building.

He grabbed the first button-up shirt he saw, but tossed it behind him as he decided against it. There were plenty more in the room, so he could take his pick even if he could not take his time. Next he plucked a fistful of ties from a locker and tossed them to Rory, who caught them despite any surprise he might feel.

"What's in here?" asked Amy as she entered.

The Doctor laughed a little. "I'm saving the world. I need a decent shirt." There were formal jackets on a rack in the middle of the room. He grabbed a half dozen of them, figuring he could decide which to use once he was further along in the process. "To Hell with the raggedy. The Doctor is _in!_"

He saw Rose's head bob through the door as she finally caught up. That brought him to a standstill. He could care less if the others were here. In fact, he needed them to hold all the excess clothing. But as for Miss Tyler...

"Rose!" he called. "I have a very special assignment for you."

"What is it?" she asked, excited.

"I don't want the Atraxi to decide I'm not coming and leave again. I need you to go up to the roof and make sure they don't go anywhere."

She planted her hands on her hips and adopted a simulated frown. "You want _me_ to go meet them?"

"Yes I do," he replied, selecting a rose coloured shirt he thought would compliment the hue of his eyes.

"But they won't listen to me. Besides, I doubt they'll go anywhere after the dressing down you gave them."

"Maybe they will stay put," The Doctor conceded. "But I'd feel better if you were there. They won't hurt you, and if they don't listen, just quote article fifteen of the Shadow Proclamation at them and say I'm on my way."

Rose made for the door, but spun around before she left. "Ya know? This seems a bit like an excuse to get me out of the room."

The Doctor grinned. "Of course it's an excuse. Now off with you."

She laughed and ran away to fulfil his instructions, but the moment her footfalls died away, Rory took up his former complaint. "You just summoned the aliens back to earth. Deadly aliens and all. And now you're taking your clothes off. What's going on here?"

The Doctor unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and pulled the tattered garment over his head tie and all.

"Amy! He's taking his clothes off."

"I've noticed," she replied coyly.

"Turn your back if it embarrasses you," cheeped The Doctor.

"Are you stealing clothes now? They belong to my co-workers, you know."

By now, The Doctor had a black shirt slipped around his shoulders. He liked it, but took it off again in favour of the rosy heather one he had grabbed earlier. "I've been told cleanliness is next to godliness, and down the street from Somerset. So, if I'm meeting the Atraxi leadership, I won't do it dressed like this. It's time to put on a show."

Rory turned his back in disgust if nothing else. The Doctor heard him lean over to Amy. "Are you going to keep gawking at him?"

The smile in her voice told The Doctor her answer before she even finished. "I've waited twelve years. I'm not letting him out of my sight if I can help it."

oOo

One of the ponderous Atraxi warships hovered over the hospital roof by the time Rose stepped outside. Its size awed her, seeming so much more tangible up close. She looked up at its crystalline body as it rotated on some unseen axis, but though its eye turned to watch her as she emerged into the sunlight, it gave no other sign of acknowledgement.

As she predicted, it neither spoke to her of its own volition, nor answered any of the questions she posed. However, it also did not appear likely to leave any time soon. The electric crackle of its repulsor engines remained ever constant as she awaited The Doctor's exit.

When the door finally did open again, her three companions emerged to the encounter each in their own fashion. First came The Doctor, clad in dark grey trousers, and a dusty pink, long sleeve shirt. A pair of suspenders hung at his waist, and he had about five ties draped around his shoulders. After him came Rory and Amy, side by side. While Amy tensed at the sight of an Atraxi ship so close at hand, Rory nearly looked like he might swoon. His mouth fell open, his eyes going wide.

The Doctor strode to the Atraxi like he owned the place. Hanging back, Rory clutched an old rusted railing and pleaded. "So this was a good idea, was it? They were leaving!" It sounded to Rose like the tail end of an ongoing argument.

"Leaving is good," returned The Doctor. "Never coming back is better." He peered impatiently at the Atraxi. "Come on, then! The Doctor will see you now." In response, the ship's eye-like pod detached from the main vessel, sweeping down to hover a stone's throw from The Doctor. Suddenly, The Doctor was staring down his Atraxi counterpart. Rory pointed, swallowing hard as he moved to join Amy. The Scottish lass looked to him for comfort, unsure of what might happen next.

At the same time, Rose moved away from the rest, coming alongside where she could get a better look at The Doctor's face while still seeing the Atraxi clearly. The giant pupil blazed with light as The Atraxi scanned The Doctor's life signs. It hesitated, the whirring of its electronic systems lasting longer than Rose expected. The bridge of The Doctor's nose wrinkled as vivid light glared in his face.

When it finished, The Doctor reached down to pull up his suspenders while the Atraxi rendered it judgement. "You are not of this world."

"No," answered The Doctor. "But strangely enough I've put a lot of work into it." He started fussing with his outfit again, fingering through the ties he had brought from below. "I just don't know..." He held out a blue bowtie as if expecting fashion advice from the Atraxi.

Instead it rumbled. "Is this world important?"

This got The Doctor's attention. "Important?" he snapped, tossing several rejected articles for Rory to catch. "What does that mean, 'important'? Six billion people live here. Is that not important enough?" Then he addressed his blonde companion for the first time, winked and smiled. "Do you want moves, Rose? I'll show you moves.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we?" When the Atraxi made no reply, he continued. "Rule number one: the Atraxi Collective has no jurisdiction over the Earth. In future, if you need anything done on any of this system's twelve planets, you subcontract to me."

"Twelve?" repeated Amy, her brow furrowed in frank amazement.

The Doctor jerked to face her in concern. "You didn't know?" He looked crestfallen when she shook her head. "Right. Spoilers." Turning with a rather aloof expression, he addressed the Atraxi once again. "I will call you in only if necessary, which will be, quite bluntly, never."

"Do you have authority to make such demands?"

"When it comes to this world, I _am_ authority. You want to go higher than me? Well you can't because there is no one else." He wagged a stern finger at the floating eye and spoke more cheerfully. "Here's a better question. I assume you have a tap on the Earth's worldwide web. Is this world a threat to the Atraxi?"

From the ship's pupil flared a bright blue light, culminating in a holographic globe of the Earth which hovered halfway between the Atraxi and its smaller accuser. Overlaying the sphere she saw an image of tanks, marching armies, and the detonation of an atomic bomb. From there it shifted to visions of the planet's space program, and lastly an overview of religious and political leadership.

"No," answered the Atraxi, as the globe reappeared.

"And are the peoples of this world guilty of any serious infraction of Atraxi law? Any at all?"

Again a flicker of images swept over the hologram, faster than Rose could decipher. "No."

"Very good," agreed The Doctor, nodding. He was lacing up the blue tie now, the collar of his shirt turned up around his throat. "Now one more. Just one. Is this world protected?"

The view changed a third time. Rose saw a great man of metal smashing its way through a plate glass door to slaughter its victims. Next came tall, dark, stalk-eyed machines flying by the hundred from a chamber barely their own size. She instinctively loathed these monsters, but did not know why. Materializing next she saw a semi-humanoid creature with the lower body of a spider, a bony, leather-faced monster clad in conqueror's armour, and many, many more.

"Because you're not the first lot to come here," assured The Doctor. "You have no idea. And what you've got to ask yourself is..." He stopped while he turned down his collar. "What happened to them?"

The Doctor turned away from the Atraxi's optical response, choosing his next piece of clothing, but Rose could not tear herself away. In quick succession, the hologram showed her a sight that put her final doubts to rest. An ageing runaway looking to rekindle his former days, a subversive but steely hero, a grave and powerful rebel, the amazing, passionate, hawkish insurrectionist, a reckless youth, a manic dark horse, a ravaged explorer, a Victorian gentleman, an old soldier running his past sins, and finally the rambunctious adventurer Rose first met. All these faces, and yet she knew in her heart that they were the same man.

Before the last image flickered out, The Doctor stepped through his holographic previous self, looking the Atraxi eye to eye to eye. Tweed jacket in place, bowtie immaculate, he smirked at the alien arching his brows. "Hello. I'm The Doctor." His expression darkened to grim defiance. "Run."

His last word rumbled like an oncoming storm, powerful, angry, and alive. Oh, so alive! It occurred to her then that she had never known The Doctor until this moment. She met a dying man, burnt out and fading. Until now she had followed someone incomplete, a shadow of what he could become. But with those words, Rose felt the power and unbridled fury of a Time Lord for the first time, and it was glorious.

Rose put a hand over her mouth to smother a laugh of joy. To her amazement, the Atraxi leader heeded The Doctor, its eye snapping into its crystalline socket. The buzzing of its gravity drives pitched in intensity, the ship's rotation quickening to a frightening pace. Then it soared into the heavens, never looking back.

oOo

The Doctor watched it go, listening as the ship's engines faded into the distance. It was over, at least for now. Heaven knew he would likely be getting himself back into trouble soon enough. Still, he had this moment of peace, and nothing could take it away from him.

In the pocket of his trousers where he'd placed it, his TARDIS key crackled with heat and static electricity. He had spoken too soon. He pulled it out and gazed at the glowing bit of metal, his own eyes sparkling in its radiance. The TARDIS was ready, so was he. Nothing remained but to go back to the chase.

"Is that them gone for good, then?" questioned Rory. He and Amy were still staring at the sky, but Rose kept her eyes on him like she feared he might run off without her. And if it could have prevented his fulfilling his duty to her, The Doctor might have considered doing just that.

He approached her stealthily, while the others had their attention elsewhere. "Fancy another ride in the TARDIS?"

"You know I would."

He took her hand. "The fire truck is still downstairs. Run with me."

Rose spared one glance for Amy and Rory, but did not argue. Together, they slipped back into the stairwell.

oOo

The ride back to Amy's house was surprisingly tense. The Doctor offered little conversation himself, and gave only cursory replies to her various questions. In fact to Rose, he looked more like her reluctant executioner, taking her along her last stretch, than a friend who had just saved the entire world. There was no strutting, no gloating. What was going on in his mind?

To break the silence, she smiled over at her comrade and said, "You know, Doctor? For all its danger, today was wonderful."

"Yes," he said in mild tones. "I think it really was."

oOo

A few minutes later the truck's breaks brought their journey to a close. The Doctor placed one foot on the roadside, anxious to see the inside of his TARDIS once again, but not wanting his time with Rose to end.

Rose hopped from the cab, suspecting nothing. In a way, that cut him even deeper. Her implicit trust, so soon after meeting him, nearly made him triumph over his formers selves. However that very trust made it all the harder to deceive her. Or perhaps a better word would be betray. He was tricking one of the finest women he ever met in order to preserve his own time line and hers. Noble motives or not, it certainly did not make him feel any better.

They entered Amy's backyard via the fence, retracing the path they'd travelled so hurriedly an hour and a half prior. When he caught sight of the overgrown lawn, half-weeded flower beds, and a house badly in need of paint, The Doctor felt cold shivers run along his spine. It was not merely neglected. It was as if whoever time decreed would do these labours had somehow been banished from such work before delegating the responsibility. Why even bother rebuilding the garden shed if they had no intention of using its contents? And then he began to wonder why Amy Pond, a hothouse flower if ever he saw one, would choose to live alone in this big old house for so many lonely years.

But those things flew from his mind when he caught sight of a bright blue police telephone box standing in the middle of the yard, looking more out of place than any of the unattended projects surrounding it. If left there, it might well have raised the property value with its pristine appearance, but that would never do. For this particular phone box was all his own.

He approached the TARDIS, resisting the urge to frolic toward it, cooing all the while. Somehow that wouldn't seem dignified. He wanted desperately to see the old girl again, but no less desired to save such a simple pleasure for as long as possible. The Doctor took Rose's hand and they stepped forward.

"All right," he said coolly. "Let's see what you have for me this time."

The key came into his hand. He inserted it into the TARDIS' Yale lock and twisted it. The tumblers yielded, clunking in a satisfying manner. Then the doors swung open and The Doctor was dazzled. For everything that happened to him that day, this moment surprised him more than any other.

Rose skipped ahead of him, gasping in wonder as she caught sight of his old TARDIS' brand new interior. "Doctor. Can you see it? This is unbelievable!"

But unbelievable was kind of what he did. He nodded ascent and Rose skipped further inside, dancing up a short flight of metal stairs The Doctor didn't remember being there a few hours earlier. She stopped by the console, her chocolate eyes flashing as she beckoned for him to follow. Everything so new, ship, life, future. The Doctor marvelled at the possibilities.

"Oh, you sexy thing." No one would ever know that he didn't just mean the TARDIS.

oOo

Engine's thrummed. Lights flashed. An inconceivable wind blew. The police box pulsed with the grinding of the engine, slowly dissolving from view. However as the TARDIS vanished into the unknown, neither of its occupants noticed the young couple running along the path toward it.

They faltered to a stop, staring. Those in the blue box did not see the tears streaming from the redhead's eyes.


	9. Chapter 8

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me thus far. Unfortunately, the end is just around the next corner. I hope you enjoy the next few chapters!

Chapter 8

"Where are we off to next, Doctor?"

He rounded from his display readouts to regard his fellow traveller. Rose stood there, her spirit imploring his in anticipation. The Doctor's chest tightened. Whenever he wanted to cry, The Doctor usually laughed instead, but on this occasion he could not muster that psychological preservation.

Never before had he been more at a loss to make his feelings appear what they were not. He had lost Rose twice before, and the experience almost killed him. The second time nearly drove him to the brink of insanity. The Doctor did not know if he could survive a third. New body, new personality, or not, giving her over again would leave its mark on him.

Rose had done much to help him get the better of the last few hours. He was afraid to admit how much. For all Rose Tyler risked in service of a man she hardly knew, The Doctor could not help but think she deserved better than this. After rediscovering a friendship he thought never to experience again, to snuff out that life at its kindling seemed anathema.

"End of the line," he finally managed.

Her expression slipped a bit, the colour draining perceptibly from her face. "You're taking me back?"

"I have to," he said flatly, trying to leave his hearts out of this. The Doctor returned to his readouts, not that they held anything of interest for him. The TARDIS could handle a simple trip to January first, two thousand five almost without guidance.

"Have," she fumbled, but caught her breath. "Have I done something wrong?"

He shook his head. "No, no. Of course not. Don't ever think that. This is just the way it has to be."

Rose shuffled her feet. Moments passed where only the wheezing drum of the ship's engines broke the silence. The girl stepped nearer. "I get it. You're returning me so I can meet you later. But will I see _you_ again? Like you are now, I mean."

The Doctor shook his head again. "You can't." He turned to face her.

She did not meet his gaze, but he saw the conflict striving for mastery of her emotions. "Right. Well... before we part company I want to thank you for everything. It's been quite a ride."

"It's I who should thank you, really. Right before I ran into you, I watched my world burn for a second time. You helped me forget about that for a little while. You've blotted out the past for me more than all the facets of a Zarathustra Sun Stone. You gave me one last adventure, something I thought we'd never share."

"You've given me some great memories too."

The Doctor hardened to flinty steel. "Rose." His moistened his lips. "No... I haven't."

"What do ya mean?"

There was no good way to tell her this. "I can't leave you with these memories of me. You know too much about my past, and that can't happen. When I first met you, you didn't know who I was. For both our sakes, history must be maintained."

Rose blinked, not comprehending. Her face went chalky white. A slow look of horror overspread her and Rose covered her open mouth with a trembling hand.

"You wouldn't," she half pleaded. "You couldn't! Doctor, no."

The lines in his face tightened further. "I have no choice. I'm so sorry."

If possible, acknowledging the verdict made things worse, a heady reminder of why the rules of temporal incursion were put in place to begin with. When you broke them, it always hurt, but these days pain often served as his only reminder that he still lived. He would give almost anything if such things could come in a different form, but the universe seldom asked his opinion before arranging these little paradoxical forays.

She backed away from him, "I won't let you! My entire life I've wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself. You want me to give this up now? I work in a shop for crying out loud! Don't you think I can do better?"

"And you will, but it's too early."

"But I can travel with you," insisted Rose. "You said yourself. Time can be rewritten."

"Not those times. Not one of them. A friend of mine once said some things are worth getting your heart broken over."

Rose did not answer right away, but some of the defiance died out of her face. "Did I say that?" she asked, downy soft.

"No. A very good woman gave you the same advice. Now I have to accept it myself." He locked eyes with her and held them. "I have to give you up now or lose you then. If I don't bring you back, the consequences... it's too terrible to speak of."

She scrunched her nose at him and pouted. "Then why did you bring it up?"

"Tyler," he said sternly.

"Okay. I get it," she replied. "You need to erase my memories or monkeys learn to fly and all that."

He snickered. "Hey, monkeys do fly depending on what planet you're on. And it's not so much erasing memories. It's more like hiding playing hide and seek with them, but I'm very good at the hiding bit."

"You know?" she interjected. "I think I can believe that." She approached him again after a hesitation, lucky because The Doctor's legs felt too rubbery to move. "I suppose I'm ready as I'll ever be. Might as well get this over with."

"Yeah." He nodded, but his fists clenched involuntarily, cementing themselves to his sides.

"Doctor," she said, her voice tinged with ephemeral sadness. "Don't hate yourself. This isn't your fault."

"Hate myself? I don't think I-"

"Yeah ya do," she interrupted, "and you don't have to. You'll be okay."

He scratched behind his right ear. "Okay" had become his permanent state more recently. Why did he always have to settle? "Oh. I'm always okay. Time the great healer and all that."

"I think you've been around long enough to know that isn't always true."

The Doctor failed once again to smirk. Such an awkward moment. It began to feel as though they were merely talking to prevent an even louder silence. "Don't forget, I've got all of space and every age to drown my complaints. There's plenty of bother for me to get into. I can go anywhere, after all."

"Except, apparently…" she trailed off, leaving her concern unvoiced.

He glossed over it. "Yeah, but look at you. In a few months you'll be out adventuring again, moving on to bigger and better things."

There was so much more he wanted to say, but for one lone Lord of Time, there never seemed enough of that precious commodity to go around. He always came to that conclusion when the resources within him gave out. The whole of the universe at his fingertips and he did not have time enough to properly say goodbye to Rose Tyler. If he tried, he would never let her go, and he could not risk his fragile resolve any further.

"So when do I meet you again? How long do we travel together?"

"Spoilers," chimed the Doctor.

"Like _that_ really matters at this point."

He finally cracked a smile, relishing her unbridled emotion. "Everything has its end. Now forget me, Rose Tyler." He willed his fingers to loosen, his hands to un-ball.

"Your eyes."

The statement surprised him. "What?"

"It's funny I didn't notice before, but your eyes are the same. They're a different colour and all, but I still see the man I met in them."

"My eyes?" he croaked. "Oh, blimey, they would be the same, wouldn't they?"

The Doctor detached himself from the console, locking his knees to keep himself erect. He swallowed hard, lifting his arms, preparing to press his fingertips to her face and the proper nerve endings which would give him access to her mind. A muscle in his cheek twitched. His right thumb came in contact with Rose's left cheek, but there he halted, fighting down his shilly-shallying while he cudgelled his brains for some way out of this. The blonde closed her eyes, tensing.

And then it came to him. "No reason to rush this," he breathed, "and besides, it occurs to me I'm getting ahead of myself."

"W-wha?"

"Simple," he said, employing every scrap of verbal chicanery he'd ever learned. "I can't return you to your mum looking like you are. She'll end up slapping me. Again."

"Wait a minute. Why would my mum slap you?"

"And what would Ricky think?" He flashed what he hoped would be a coy smile, but feared came across more sheepish than charming.

"It's Mickey, actually."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed. "You need a good bathe! So do I for that matter. Tell you what. I'll use the hypersonic shower in my chambers. You can use one of the units in the main hall. You'll probably want a change of clothes afterwards. If your room's gone and run off, just give me a shout and I'll direct you to the wardrobe. Now off with you."

Rose's flushed, confused feelings bubbling to the surface. Her expression changed three or four times before going altogether blank. Bemusement gave way to anger, frustration, and finally hope. Then she laughed, stepping so close that his eyes involuntarily crossed, and prodded his shoulder with her index finger. "Are you saying _I_ stink?"

"No, I think Amy implied that rather eloquently a while ago." A flashing indicator on the TARDIS console informed him that the ship had arrived at the proper coordinates. He slapped a few levers, ran to the next bank of controls and ran his fingers over the proper switches. The engines rumbled and fell silent, the ship's outer shell re-materializing in the linear world.

"Yeah, well I want you here with your shoes shined and ready for grandma's in five minutes, young man."

"Yes ma'am."

The Doctor and Rose split up, going their separate paths along various TARDIS corridors. Before she escaped his vision, however, he caught her sniffing her arm. She shuddered, picking up her pace. And though The Doctor congratulated himself for putting off the inevitable a little longer, he could not forget that it _was_ inevitable for all that.

oOo

The bright blue doors opened onto an alley just beside a busy city avenue. Weak sunlight filtered into the console room. The Doctor stepped out ahead of her, and Rose's eyes lit on the snow dusted sidewalks. Crisp, glacial air tangled her blonde locks, blowing the scent of cinnamon and flour from a nearby bakery.

Rose squeezed around The Doctor, almost tripping into the street where she stumbled against a man in his late twenties carrying an arm full of brown paper parcels. He staggered, nearly losing his burden, but steadied the load before it could tip and scatter all over the slick pavement.

"Oh, 'scuse me," she apologized. "Didn't see you coming. Oh, what's today's date?"

"January first, two thousand five," he said, grinning. "Had a bit too much to drink last night, love?"

"Get off it you cheeky bloke!" she chided back, only slightly annoyed. The man gripped his packages tighter and fled down the street, laughing.

"Don't let it get to you," remarked The Doctor, crossing his arms over his chest. "You thought the same about me a few hours ago. I told you I could get us here."

"I guess," she replied, hardly hearing him. Rose rubbed her arms to warm them, peering around the street in curiosity. "Hey. We're in London. This is right by the garage Mickey works at."

"Of course. Where better?"

It was as though mention of his name brought him upon the scene. A young black man stepped from the shelter of a flower shop, a bundle of carnations in his arms. Suspense lasted while Rose remained unsure of which way he would turn, but he came in their direction and caught sight of her at once. The shocked dismay he exhibited took her completely off guard.

Mickey stopped, nearly dropped half his flowers, and sprinted in her direction, gabbling unintelligible nonsense faster than she could follow. He halted in front of her, not seeming to notice The Doctor, speaking rapidly, but not conveying an iota of sense.

Rose turned to her companion for support. The Doctor seemed to take this to mean "Don't worry. I can handle him on my own, and by the way, why not look guilty so Mickey's sure to see and get jealous?" She cringed.

"Slow down, Mickey!" she cried, grabbing his shoulders. "Take a breath. What's going on?"

"You shouldn't be here!" Mickey gasped. "What're you _doin'_ out here?"

It gave her an instant's déjà vu, harkening to Rory's first sighting of The Doctor. On the other hand, his choice of wording disillusioned her of this. None of Mickey's strange reaction seemed right.

He went on. "They said you wouldn't be up an' about for days. I... I just left you there half an hour ago. Are you okay?"

His outburst drew a sizeable amount of attention from the New Year's Day crowd, more than either she or The Doctor desired. "I'm fine," she assured him. "And left me where?" By now she was properly baffled.

"At the Royal Hope Hospital," he said as though it should be obvious. "We've been worried sick ever since your mum found you in the street this morning. The doctors said you wouldn't be coming around for hours. Maybe days. The nurses had to practically carry your mum out."

Rose gasped, clutching his arm. "Is she okay? Is she hurt?"

"Nah. Just exhausted." Mickey managed to shuffle the blooms into one arm so he could wrap the other around Rose's neck, hugging her tight. She felt tears hot on his cheeks and could not help shedding a few of her own.

When he finally released her, Mickey evidently expected an explanation, but how could she account for this when she barely grasped it herself? Rose hadn't been in hospital. Half an hour ago, she trod rural sewers alongside The Doctor. It simply made no sense.

Here her companion broke in. "Ah, yes. I can explain that, I think. Experimental treatment. I'm Doctor John Smith, her physician." He swept out a leather wallet and opened it to reveal a doctor's pass card with his photo in one corner and a good bit of certified information stating he was attached to the Royal Hope. Rose boggled at it. "I've been escorting Miss Tyler around town for the last fifteen minutes or so to help acclimatise her since her injuries." He pocketed the wallet and extended his hand. Her boyfriend shook it, nearly dropping his flowers again.

"You look awful young to be a doctor," commented Mickey.

The Doctor laughed and slapped him on the back. "I get that a lot. Why not give the young lady her flowers and I will return her and all. Say, if possible, nothing about this. It's an experimental treatment and you never know when it will wear off so I don't want to raise anyone's hopes. Is that understood?"

Mickey conceded so far as to hand over his bundle of carnations. Smiling gratefully as she inhaled their fragrance, Rose thanked him and gave her boyfriend a peck on the cheek. He blushed despite himself. Mickey usually tried to be the toughest guy in the room, but his concern over her had broken him down, and Rose couldn't help being touched. If only she knew what was going on.

"Why don't I go with you?" he suggested. "I was going to head back to the hospital anyway. We might as well go together."

The Doctor quickly declined. "No use doing that. She'll be having tests done until sometime this afternoon. You won't be able to see her until then. Why don't you go check on Jack... err, um, on this young lady's mother?"

Mickey, though reluctant to leave Rose, kissed her goodbye and walked down the street, sullenly stuffing his hands into his pockets. When he finally disappeared around a corner, Rose turned to her companion.

"Couple of questions, yeah?" she began, shivering against another frigid breeze. "What was that thing you showed him, and what was he on about?"

The Doctor grinned and pulled out the wallet again. "Slightly psychic paper. It shows people what they expect to see or what I want them to see. Neat trick, right? As for your other question," he sobered, "I have no idea, but we'd best investigate." The Doctor looked around him as if to assure himself of where he was. "C'mon. There's a bus stop around here somewhere. We'll hitch a ride to the hospital and figure out where to go from there."

A darkness gathered behind his eyes. Call it woman's intuition, but Rose had the distinct feeling that whatever they found at the Royal Hope Hospital would change her life forever.

oOo

The Doctor watched Rose as she stared down at the sterile, white Stryker bed before them. She said nothing. He could practically see her gears turning as the girl strove to make sense of the scene before her.

After getting off the bus, they had run to the hospital, procuring the asked for directions at a receptionist's desk before taking an elevator to the fourth floor. Now they stood in a too bright room, filled with electronic monitors, intravenous steroid drips, and a single critical care patient. The Doctor clearly saw the reason for Rose's disbelief. She and the comatose woman in the bed shared the same face.

She bent down and poked the blonde girl on her shoulder, starting back as if she thought the other might leap up and tear her throat out. The Doctor pitied her, but said nothing, trying to work out this latest puzzle for himself. He had brought Rose back to the correct time, place, and plane of probability, so how could there be two of her here? Both of them seemed the genuine article, though honestly he could barely see the bedridden "Rose" through all of those bruises, bandages, tubes, and cords.

Rose moistened her lips, swallowing loudly. "I know she's unconscious and all, but please don't think I'm one of those multiform things."

"Don't worry. I know better."

She broke off looking at her mirror image, her eyes moistened by tears of vexation. "I don't understand. Why is she... why am _I _here?"

An excellent question, and they weren't going to find out just standing there. The Doctor plucked a medical chart from the foot of the bed and began reading it. At first, Rose tried to read over his shoulder, but gave it up when he turned over the page.

"What's wrong with her?"

He kept reading. "Let's see. One blood test here shows they found trace amounts of an unstable isotope in her bloodstream. Possibly radiation poisoning. No wait. A second test discounted that. It says here 'Diagnosis: Concussion with mild cranial trauma and internal injury. Prognosis: Full recovery.' What in blazes?"

"Doctor?"

The Doctor imagined back to those fuzzy moments surrounding his regeneration. "Rose. When I regenerated, I saw you thrown out of the TARDIS. Do you remember that?"

She nibbled the knuckle of her thumb while she thought. "I saw you start to change, but I'm a blank after that 'til I woke up behind one of those coral support thingys."

_The most scientific way I've ever heard them described_, thought The Doctor wryly. He held his tongue on that and pressed forward. "That's odd. Okay it makes sense if," he trailed off, pacing the cramped room as he spoke. "No. Never mind. That only happens if you eat carrots for lunch.

"But conceivably, if you _had_ been ejected out onto the street you might have sustained all of these injuries. You really went rocketing out after all. Question is, if you're here," The Doctor gestured to her, "how can you be here too?" He pointed to the bed. "Which leaves us where?"

Rose sniffled, her gaze clouding. "Am I not real? Am I nothin' more than a dream?" Rose forced back tears, but her efforts proved futile. They spilled over her cheeks in rivers.

Pursing his lips, The Doctor stopped pacing and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. Rose's words, the other Rose, the older Rose, rang out in his head. _"Now this is really seeing the future, you just leave us behind. Is that what you're gonna do to me?"_

"Not you. Never you," he said aloud, a thin vein of sorrow in his voice. But he had done just that in the end. Even if it was with a copy of himself, he had left her behind. Now he was trying to leave her behind again, and he just couldn't.

"What?" asked Rose through her tears.

He gently lifted her chin with the tip of his finger, an act that might be considered improper for a woman he had just met. She seemed to draw strength from that touch, or perhaps The Doctor's interested wishes only made him think so. He pressed on, clenched his teeth. "You are so much more." And then it clicked into place. "I know what happened."

Rose dried her tears, watching expectantly.

He hesitated, putting his thoughts together before he started. "All right. Regeneration can influence other beings. It's called a Time Lord/human meta-crisis, but that wouldn't account for duplicated clothing and whatnot. When I regenerated, the TARDIS was de-materializing. That means it temporarily existed in two dimensions. It splintered you in two, which should have killed you, but it happened at a very special time. Regenerative energy filled in the missing bits. Nice, neat, and simple."

"So I'm a copy?" she burst out. "Isn't that impossible?"

He fingered his chin. "Actually, given the number of time pods there used to be, I'm surprised it hasn't happened before. Let's just call you both the original. Interesting. If I did a genetic scan on you I wouldn't be surprised to find few specks of Time Lord DNA. You might even have stopped ageing for all I know."

She slumped into an uncomfortable chair. "And are you going to test me?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Where's the fun in that? If I knew everything about what I was getting into, you would find me doing very little gallivanting and spending most of my time at the local library.

"And does all that account for having memories I shouldn't?"

The Doctor paused, startled. So she put the pieces together too. "No," he replied. "But I can guess what does. Your future self looked into the living heart of my ship, and it changed her forever. I always assumed it only affected her going forward, but time has a way of echoing back, and I think you're hearing some of those echoes."

She nodded, taking it in, her face going white. Something seemed to occur to her just then. "I have nowhere to go. There's nothing left for me. There's a Rose here all ready to take up my job, my boyfriend, my mum. I don't belong anywhere. And what about Prisoner Zero. It said I'm the 'Bad Wolf'. What did it mean, exactly?"

But here his natural discretion overrode prior openness. "I don't rightly know," he replied, pondering, "but I'd like a chance to find out."

Rose hesitated, her expression almost distrusting. "You mean…"

A smile crept onto his face, a hint of sunshine after the driving rain. "Admittedly I am a bit tardy in saying this." He hesitated, his tongue wedged thoughtfully in one cheek. "If you want, I can take you to another world or time where you can live out your days in peace. Or," The Doctor let that hang, reaching a hand toward her, "you could always come with me."

Rose's smile warmed him to the bone. "Really?" She took his hand and The Doctor helped her to her feet. Gratitude gushed forth, and she hugged him tight, nearly upsetting the vase of carnations they had brought with them. She looked sheepish, but it passed quickly. "Is it gonna be like this all the time?"

"Everywhere I go," he admitted proudly.

"What do you think then?" said Rose. "Of course I'm coming with you!"

The Doctor saw that she clearly anticipated the conclusion of their business. She moved for the door, but he never budged, not taking his eyes from the prone figure in the bed. While one quandary had been solved by this discovery, another task remained, one nearly as hard.

Approaching the injured girl, the one destined to travel with his younger self, a strange lightness entered his spirit. It all made so much more sense now because Rose had always been more than she seemed. She compounded that when she bonded to the heart of the TARDIS, seeing for an instant all of time and space, and arranging a trail of breadcrumbs to lead herself back to him when he needed her most. Perhaps now she had done so a second time.

"What are you doing, Doctor?"

Placing his hands along the other girl's face, he closed his eyes and concentrated. "I thought I had to erase your memories. I don't. But that doesn't mean I don't have to erase hers. She can't remember being inside the TARDIS."

He heard her take a single step toward him, then stop, quelling a note of disapproval. Breaking contact, he leaned down to her ear and whispered two words. "Be magnificent." Then, The Doctor straightened, strode to the exit, and with only one serious parting glance, passed Rose, heading for the elevator.


	10. Chapter 9

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and encouraged me. It's been fun, but we're coming to the final lines. Enjoy!

Chapter 9

She was dreaming it again. That whispering haunted her sleeping hours, telling a disappointed child he had come back for her to show her a wonderland of galactic adventures. The Raggedy Doctor, her Raggedy Doctor, had returned in his magic ship to rescue a little girl from her heartbroken, dissatisfied life.

A rushing, raw abrading sound she knew so well mingled amidst these childhood visions. She saw a little girl, seated upon a suitcase, nearly nodding off while she waited for her imaginary friend to visit again. These confused remembrances blurred as the cyclical grinding intensified, followed by a loud bang as something heavy settled into place.

Amy Pond's eyelids shot open, a thrill fluttering her stomach, making it clench at her own uncertainty. Had the sound been real or only wistful memory? She scrambled out of bed, sending the covers flying in every direction, scampering to the window of her room to get a look at the open air.

Her breath caught, throat tightening. Sitting in the middle of her darkened backyard, looking for all the world as if it had always been there, she saw the most incongruous of objects. It was a blue police box, light pouring from its windows like a miniature sun. She clutched the windowsill for support, her eyes going wide, heart thundering.

Steadying herself, Amy ran for her door, out into the hall and downstairs, determined not to let The Doctor escape her so easily for a third time.

oOo

It might have been his imagination, but to The Doctor's critical eye, his TARDIS seemed to brighten when Rose stepped aboard. He liked the idea, actually. The ship seldom felt more like home than those days when this corky, clever, quirky young woman travelled by his side. Neither of them were what they had been at their prior meeting, and this all might yet end in tragedy, but a second chance for a fresh start made him feel younger than he had in years.

The TARDIS' engines powered down. Locking the controls, he left the console and nearly walked into Rose. Skidding to a halt on the balls of his feet, he caught a certain something in her eyes that stopped him.

The Doctor searched her face but could not make out her intent. "What is it, Ms Tyler?"

Rose smiled at the idiosyncratic turn of phrase. "Oh. Nothing," she replied as he settled back on his heels. "I'm just... settling. Everything is still so new."

Nodding, The Doctor agreed. Then he asked, "Are you going to come out with me?"

Rose bit her lower lip, finally shaking her head. "Nah. I think she'll be happier to see you alone." She smiled again, straightening his bowtie. "You sure you don't want to change this?"

He fingered his collar. "What, this? Bowties are cool."

Rose cocked her head to one side and squinted at him. "Oh, no they're not."

Shrugging, The Doctor yielded. "Okay. I bow to your superior fashion sense... but I'm still going to wear it." He leaned in and confided. "And it's a lot harder for someone to drag you around by one of these."

She laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "I'll be here when you get back. You just go an' be her magic Doctor for once."

That he could handle. The Doctor made for the doors, reached for them and pulled the double partitions toward him. Stepping out of the TARDIS he came face to face with a little Scottish girl clad in a dressing gown, knit hat, jacket, and red Wellington boots, clutching a child's suitcase eagerly in one hand. Nearly gasping, he blinked - and a fully-grown Amy Pond stood there wild-eyed in her striped nightie, housecoat, and slippers.

And though the child was gone, The Doctor knew he would never see her any other way.

oOo

Mingled star shine and moon wash diffused in the chilly atmosphere. Amy swallowed hard, her face reflecting the tension knotting her whole body as she watched the tweed-jacketed interloper with baited breath. He closed the TARDIS' doors behind him, grinning the broadest, most open-mouthed grin she ever imagined, spreading his arms wide like he expected her to rush into them. Contrary to any such expectation, the redhead stood her ground.

"It's you!" This immediately struck Amy as an exceptionally stupid thing to tell The Doctor, but he politely did not seem to notice. "You came back!"

"Of course I came back," he said frowning, resting his warm hands on her shivering arms. "I always come back. What kind of ungrateful tramp do you think I am? Wait. Don't answer. Sorry for running off like that," he apologized, his face overflowing with excitement. "I couldn't resist though. The TARDIS. She's brand new all over again." He removed a paper bag from his inner jacket pocket, holding it out for her inspection. "Jelly Baby?"

Amy recoiled. "No. Yuck. Those things are completely rubbish," she teased.

The Doctor deflated, tucking the packet away. A hooting owl flew across the night sky. Overhead, a few bats beat their wings as they chased mosquitoes.

"And you kept the clothes?" she pressed.

"Something wrong with that?" The Doctor kicked at the dust under his feet, looking vaguely cross and guilty. "I just saved the world for about the millionth time. Yeah, I kept the clothes."

Amy bobbed her head. "Including the bowtie."

He held up a hand to stay her. "Yeah. Had that conversation already. Moving on."

"Okay."

The Doctor patted his phone box. "The TARDIS. Had a quick trip to two thousand five to run her in. She's ready for the big stuff now. So what do you say?"

Amy bit the tip of her tongue, shaking her head. "To what?"

"The big stuff," piped The Doctor. "I promised some of it when you were yea high. Still interested?"

Amy thought her heart had already hit terminal velocity, but this question proved her wrong. Another shot of adrenaline made her think she might faint if she could find no release valve for this emotional pressure.

"What does that mean?"

"It means..." he shrugged. "I'm asking you to come with me."

Amy planted her hands on her hips. "Come where?"

The Doctor laughed. "I'd say the sky's the limit, but it's not. We can go wherever you like."

The owl reasserted its presence. Amy looked over the police box in half-awakened apprehension. Everything he promised her when she was a little girl could still be hers, yet part of her hesitated to claim it. Another part simply wanted to scream because The Doctor once again failed to grasp a small but significant fact.

"All that stuff at the hospital," she began, overly calm. "Prisoner Zero, the Atraxi."

His gaze intensified. "Don't worry. There's loads more where that came from."

"Yeah, but those things, those amazing things..."

The Doctor silently grinned.

Amy took a menacing step forward. "... that was _two_ years ago!"

The Doctor jumped. "Uh-oh! Oops."

"Yeah!"

He scratched under his chin, looking aloof. "I guess the engines still need some fine tuning. So that..."

"Fourteen years," Amy confirmed.

"Fourteen years since fish custard." She nodded and he went on. "Amelia Pond, the girl who waited, has waited long enough."

She smiled, just a bit, reading over the sign above the box's door. "Police Public Call Box," she mouthed. Then facing The Doctor, she frowned. "When I was a kid, you said there was a swimming pool and a library, and the swimming pool was _in_ the library?"

"Yeah. The Swimming Library. Not sure where it trotted off to, but hopefully they'll be separate entities again when they turn up. No good swimming in Moby Dick when you can meet its author, right? So. Coming?"

Amy swallowed a mouthful of stinging acid. "No."

"You wanted to come fourteen years ago," urged The Doctor.

"I grew up," she snapped.

He grimaced. "No, see, you never want to do that." He gave her a shrewd, knowing look. "But give me some time and I'll fix it."

Amy shook her head. "Doctor. I'm twenty-one years old. I have... commitments."

The Doctor's cheeks seemed to fall in, a pained expression replacing the careless mirth. He reached toward her, stopping half way there to see if she would resist. When she did not, his hand spanned the gap to her face and he tucked a stray tress of ginger behind her ear. The world around her fell utterly silent.

"Amy?" he said tenderly.

"Yeah?" she breathed, torn by tears of conflicting emotion.

He worked moisture into his mouth and whispered. "Have you ever wondered why your life doesn't make any sense?"

Amy felt her eyes glaze for just a moment. She exhaled a sharp, cold breath, losing herself in the jumble of thoughts that deluged her. How did this man know about the myriad of loose threads out of which her life wove its disfigured patchwork? Could The Doctor, after meeting her only twice, have discerned a pattern Amy herself scarcely understood?

"What do you know about _my_ life?" she questioned, perhaps a bit sharper than she intended.

He brightened a touch. "We can find out together. What do you say?"

Amy sighed. "I say... give me a tour of your box while I make up my mind."

The Doctor inclined his head, lifted a hand into the air, and snapped his fingers. In response, the TARDIS' doors creaked open of their own accord. Amy turned her gaze to the flood of light radiating from it, utterly dazzled. Neither asking, nor waiting to be asked, Amy stepped over the threshold and into a secret garden of unbelievable reality.

Her eyes adjusted to the splendour of the huge interior. It was the warmest, most mysterious-looking place any could dream of. Angular walls encompassed the massive chamber, a masterpiece of gold and silver, bronze and glass. Light poured from a myriad of circular wells on the walls and ceiling, appearing like leafless roses embedded in a carpet of sunset.

In the centre of the room, she spied a massive column of transparent material, surrounded by consoles and other control banks in a hexagonal ring. Inside the pillar, a second construct of spherical crystal flowed over itself in cascading tiers, a fountain of water, frozen in perpetual glass.

All the floor surrounding it was transparent likewise, revealing a second floor beneath. Covered conduits and metalwork, it looked like the root system of a sprawling tree, or a river of snakes interspersed with filigree.

There were a number of brown leather chairs surrounding the console itself. Suspended halfway between the floor and ceiling hung a movable display readout of a decidedly retro design. The controls were an eclectic mix of technology and toys. Keyboards and dials littered the majority of the console, but on one panel she spotted a little rotating doohickey that could have been anything at all. There were cables hanging lazily from the ceiling, disappearing skyward in a hazy tangle. For whatever reason, the TARDIS even came equipped with an occasional rubber mallet dangling on knotted twine.

Had she, like Rose, seen the TARDIS in its former condition, she might have come to the same conclusion. When the vessel rebuilt itself, all the bits and pieces or machinery The Doctor had cobbled together over the years had been assimilated in one stroke, and this was the result.

In all, The Doctor's ship was one of the strangest and loveliest places in the universe. Wendy may have grown up, much to Peter Pan's dismay, but his Neverland continued to amaze. Amy crept up a flight of metal stairs to get a better look, but her host sped past her, leaning against the console with his arms crossed, waiting for her verdict.

"Hi!" called a familiar voice. Amy waved to Rose, who sat on a railing by one of the many stairwells leading away from the central chamber.

"So. Any comments?" asked The Doctor. His brow shot upward. "Any passing remarks? I've heard them all."

"Oh, you brought the teenybopper with you, I see," she said flatly.

"And you've proven me wrong yet again. That one has the benefit of never having been tried." The Doctor gestured around him. "The TARDIS. What do you have to say about that?"

Amy shook her head. "I'm in my nightie," she managed lamely.

Rose laughed, and The Doctor screwed up his face. "You're not quite getting the hang of this, are you?"

Amy crossed her arms in front of her defensively. "Not _quite_ how I expected to spend my evening. Is that all right?"

He winked. "Don't worry. There are plenty of clothes in the wardrobe, and, if you're lucky, a swimming pool."

The Doctor strode away, stroking a console as he passed. Amy watched her childhood friend adjust a few controls before peering into the monitor screen as though he might be the only person in the room. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

"So. Everything that ever happened or ever will, the whole of space itself. Where would you want to start?"

"You are so sure that I'm coming along."

He shrugged. "I'm very clever," The Doctor replied. "Plus, I think you like a good mystery as much as I do. You're the Scottish girl living alone in an English village. I know what it feels like to be out of place." He pointed at her and grinned. "And you've still got that accent. You held on to it after all these years. Of course you're coming with us."

_Right... us_, Amy reminded herself.

The Doctor had moved to the other side of the console, and Amy peered at him through the transparent column. "Can I be back by tomorrow morning?" she offered.

"Did I forget to tell you? This is a time machine. I can get you back for five minutes ago so we could watch ourselves having this conversation." He poked his head around to view her direct. "What's so special about tomorrow?"

"Oh, nothing. Appointments to keep and what not. Nothing special."

"Back in time for 'nothing special'. Deal?"

Amy smiled. "Deal."

She heard him cry out in joy just as the console ejected a green-tipped, silver and gold cylinder. "Oh! A new one!" The Doctor snatched it, depressing a trigger on its body. The new sonic screwdriver lit up a brilliant green, whirring softly as he played with it. His childlike wonder amused Amy, but everything was too new for jest. Satisfied, he patted the TARDIS and whispered. "Thanks, dear."

Rose burst into laughter again. "Do ya need me and Amy to give you two some privacy?"

He rounded on the blonde with a mock-stern expression. "No. Thank you very much. I've been knocking around on my own for a while. My choice. But I've started talking to myself. Always a one-sided conversation, that." He held his hands out to both the girls. "Besides. The more the merrier say I, and I thought it would be more comfortable for you two to be together; because, if you got tired of me, you might talk to one another, and laugh at my odd ways behind my back. Then, before you know it, you'll be good friends."

Amy and Rose looked at each other with the determined air of two girls who were neither "good friends", nor likely to moderate their opinions any time soon.

oOo

While observing them, The Doctor caught a flash of something out of the corner of his eye. He'd switched the monitor to scanner mode, and it was currently displaying a six dimensional spectrum analysis of the surrounding region. Only interspersed in its curving lines he spotted the jagged, curving leer of the smiling crack from Amy's childhood wall.

The Doctor reached out and flicked the screen with a forefinger to no avail. Then, he dealt with it the only way he could; he shut the display down, but then the reflection of his own young, worry-lined face confronted him. He would clearly have more to do concerning those strange phenomenon.

Sweeping the concern from his mind, he approached the girls excitedly, rubbing his palms together. "First on the agenda. Since neither of you will choose, let's head for Zerathustria." When this elicited nothing but blank stares, he elucidated. "The twelfth planet of your solar system. It's so far from the sun that its inhabitants had to construct multifaceted latices called 'sun stones' just so life could evolve. They're absolutely beautiful."

"Question," interrupted Rose. "How could they make _anything_ if the planet couldn't spawn life?"

The Doctor grimaced. "Yeah. Long story. It's one of those harmless paradoxes I mentioned earlier. Suffice it to say, it was an accident involving time travel, one of my former companions, and lost book of matches." He paused. "My fault. I slept in that day. Just never let it get out that there's an entire world out there who call Tegan Jovanka their deity."

oOo

Rose hopped down from the railing to join the others. "What about Rory?" she questioned. "Should we get him?"

Amy shrugged. "Nah. He's not really into the whole travelling thing."

Rose frowned. "You two are still together, aren't you?"

She saw Amy bite her lip, hesitating before she replied. "Oh, yeah. Of course we are. But our relationship isn't what it used to be."

This struck Rose as an evasion, but she let it pass, judging Amy could keep whatever secrets she chose. After all, she didn't exactly relish telling the redhead about being a meta-whatever duplicate.

To Rose, Amy had gone from a seven-year-old, heard distantly through the depths of the burning TARDIS, to a woman two years older than herself, and it all occurred in a couple of hours. Clearly this time travel thing would take some getting used to.

Amy broke into her musings. "This place. There's a whole world in here, just like you said, Doctor." She ruffled her hair, starstruck. "When I grew up, I… well I started to wonder if you were just like some madman with a box."

"Amy Pond," called The Doctor, turning deathly serious. "You too, Rose. Listen well." Both of them turned their eyes on him in concern as he continued. "There's something you'd better understand, cos one day your lives may depend on it... I'm definitely a madman with a box."

The three of them joined in laughter, running to the console. The Doctor danced from station to station, flipping controls with an expert hand at each step. "Goodbye, England. Hello, everything!"

One final lever pulled and the entire ship jolted. The "glassy fountain" in the centre pylon rumbled to life, churning up and down in the accompaniment of a familiar metallic grinding. Rose knew the TARDIS was on her way once more, burning through the cosmos as her occupants held on for dear life.

oOo

The bright blue box vanished in a burst of pulsating nothingness. Not far off, inside the house too big for its single occupant, a child's suitcase lay open on a dresser. Gotten down from the attic for nostalgia's sake a few hours earlier, even now its contents remained strewn across bedroom.

Nearest the luggage sat a pair of finger puppets done up to represent a little girl and a ragged man in worn clothing. Beside these, the observer would find two ragdolls depicting the same subjects. Beyond lay the tattered remnants of a blue dress shirt and rumpled, pinstripe trousers, and soiled, white sneakers. But the end of the line, dangling from the door of an open closet, hung an object as incongruous as the phone box which just vacated the yard.

This object, a garment, delicate and fine, was partially responsible for its owner's altered relationship with her boyfriend. An exquisite, whiter than white wedding dress.

oOo

In the privacy of his chambers, the Doctor lay down and pretended to sleep. While he pondered over the past day's events, the last threads of The Doctor's shadow converged. Intermingling strains of personality, bolstered by the odds and ends of old tissue not yet flushed from his system, gave way to a phantom figure, real as the original if only in his mind's eye. The Doctor shook his head, somewhat amused by the ghostly presence echoing in his mind. This was the ending least looked for to this atypical day.

_"I don't know what their problem was with the bowtie,"_ called the immaterial voice of the man he had been mere hours earlier. _"We're talking the height of fashion there. But honestly, why fish custard?"_

"You've eaten stranger things in your day," The Doctor countered, not quite smirking in reply. "What are you doing here, anyway? I'd thought you were already gone."

_"Oh. I was. I just wanted to share something. I was a bit nervous about handing over the reins, but you've really won me over."_

"Thanks," The Doctor mused. "But it's not like you had much of a choice in the matter. Regeneration and all."

_"Well, I don't know about that,"_ riled the shadow. _"I could always stick around and be your personal poltergeist for the next few weeks. I might even be able to stir up a few of our previous selves to join in on the fun. Come to think of it, I bet good old number Four would rise to a challenge." _ A cacophony of strident laughter rang in his mind.

The Doctor sighed inwardly. "Don't even fool around. You know as well as I do that number Six pops up on occasion with no prompting whatsoever. You remember what we were like in _those_ days. He doesn't need any encouragement, thank you very much!"

_"You're a serious one, aren't you? You should really loosen up."_

"You didn't seem to think so when _you_ were me," deadpanned The Doctor.

The voice remained momentarily silent. _"I guess you have a point. Just don't worry. Like Rose said. You'll be okay."_

The Doctor took no solace from his predecessor's assurances. "Of course I will. Just like you always were."

_"Hey! None of that! Think about it; you've got Rose back after all these years, something I never managed. You should be happy." _ He hesitated. _"Only don't think you've seen the last complication concerning her. Same with the fairytale girl, or I'm no expert."_

"That's just it, isn't it?"

_"Yeah. But you're clever. Trust me on this. You're The Doctor."_

"Nice to know the one with the most faith in me most is... me."

He received no answer to this. At first he thought his former incarnation had stopped paying attention, and it was only after an extended pause that he realized that the other presence had vanished. The Doctor was on his own.

_No. Scratch that. _The Doctor smirked. Between Rose Tyler and Amy Pond, he had never been less alone.

The End


End file.
